


Leave No Man Behind

by coolbreeze1



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-15
Updated: 2011-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbreeze1/pseuds/coolbreeze1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard returns to Atlantis alone and struggles with the fact that he left his team behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave No Man Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story, and it was only the second one I'd ever written. It's pretty rough - I hope I've improved since then!

* * *

CHAPTER 1

 “Good morning, Doctor Weir,” the young technician said as Elizabeth Weir walked into the control room above the gate.

 “Good morning, Mr….Jennings,” Elizabeth answered, stumbling over the young man’s name. He had arrived with the new group of personnel off the Daedalus only the week before and been assigned to the early morning shift.

 “Ma’am, the Daedalus reports their repairs are progressing as planned and they are on schedule to depart back to Earth in two weeks.”

 Elizabeth nodded in response and walked to the railing overlooking the gate room. At this time in the morning, only the usual contingent of marine guards stood in the gate room.

 “Any word yet on Colonel Sheppard’s team?” She asked without looking back at the technician.

 The technician glanced at the others on shift. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry. There’s been no word yet from Colonel Sheppard or his team.”

 “They’re seven hours overdue now,” Elizabeth said to no one in particular, noting the worried expressions on the faces of the gate room staff. She looked down at some sudden movement in the gate room as two engineers walked in, flanking the slow progress of the MALP.

 “Ma’am, the MALP is just about ready.”

 Elizabeth turned back to the technician. “Thank you, Jennings.” She waved at Carson Beckett as the doctor walked into the control room. He gave her a small smile and joined her side by the railing.

 “Good morning, Carson.”

 “Good morning, Elizabeth. You’re up early.”

 “I could say the same about you.”

 “Aye,” Carson smiled, rubbing at his eyes. “The Daedalus finally got around to unloading my medical supplies. I was trying to get that all sorted before Doctor Amadine woke up.”

 “Doctor Amadine? He’s the neurosurgeon that just arrived on the Daedalus, right?”

 “Aye. Right arrogant bastard, that one. Been here two days for his glory tour of Atlantis, and he’s already telling me how to rearrange my entire infirmary.”

 “Sounds like you’ve got a long six months ahead of you,” Weir said, smiling. Carson groaned and took a sip of his coffee. They looked down at the engineers fiddling with the MALP. One of them looked up and waved.

 “We’re all set here, Doctor Weir,” she called in a heavy accent.

 Weir turned to Jennings. “Go ahead and dial, Jennings.”

 “Yes, Doctor Weir.”

 “What’s going on?” Carson asked, seeming to notice the sudden tenseness in Elizabeth’s posture.

 Elizabeth took a deep breath, trying to still her sudden sense of anxiety. “Sheppard’s team is seven hours overdue.”

Her voice was so quiet that Carson had to lean forward to hear her. At that moment, the stargate burst to life and the MALP slowly moved toward it. Carson and Elizabeth walked into the control room to the large monitor.

 “We should be getting video feed just about…now.”

 “Oh my…” Elizabeth’s voice caught in her throat, and she swallowed against the sudden dryness.

 “What the bloody hell happened there?”

 “You did dial the right planet, didn’t you?” Elizabeth glanced back at the technician, who nodded once, his face revealing the shock everyone felt at the images on the screen. Where only two days before had stood a beautiful and thriving city, there was now complete devastation. Buildings that had once stood majestic were knocked down and crumbling. Fires burned sporadically as the video camera on the MALP panned across the war-torn horizon.

A high pitch whine grew loader on the video. Carson and Elizabeth jumped back simultaneously as a bright flash of light exploded on the screen. The video quickly cut out and was replaced with nothing but static.

“Jennings?” Weir asked.

“The MALP appears to have been hit by some kind of rocket.”

“Are we getting anything?”

“No, ma’am. The MALP seems to have been completely destroyed.”

“Try to raise them on the radio.”

The technician tried in vain to raise Sheppard or a member of his team. Elizabeth eventually told him to shut it down and had him call for Major Lorne to meet her in the conference room as soon as possible. Jennings quickly followed Weir’s orders.

“Do you think it was the Wraith?” Carson asked.

“I don’t know. Possibly. They certainly have the capability of inflicting that level of damage,” Elizabeth answered, wringing her hands and no longer trying to hide her apprehension.

“Ma’am, Major Lorne says he’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Thank y—” Weir was interrupted by the sudden activation of the stargate. She spun in shock as the alarms in the gate room began to sound.

“Are we receiving an IDC?”

The technician studied his monitor. It only took a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Elizabeth.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jennings breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s Colonel Sheppard!”

“Oh, thank God!” Elizabeth breathed. “Lower the shield.” She stood next to the railing waiting for Sheppard and his team to come through the event horizon. Carson stepped up beside her.

Suddenly, rocks and debris flew through the event horizon and scattered across the gate room. The marines standing on guard ducked their heads in protection. No sound traveled through the wormhole, but a second later, more debris flew into Atlantis as if propelled by an explosion. Elizabeth barely had a moment to blink before John Sheppard’s body flew out of the stargate. He landed on his chest and slid across the smooth floor. The gate shut down behind him as quickly as it had activated.

John lay among the debris, unmoving. Carson was already running down the stairs toward him, calling for a medical team. Elizabeth felt her stomach clench in panic and fear as she noticed the dark pool of blood spreading beneath his head.

She glanced up at the quiet gate overlooking them all and giving no sign of Rodney, Ronon, or Teyla. She moved quickly down the stairs to where Carson knelt next to the unconscious man.

“Carson?” She asked in a wavering voice, unable to hide her fear and trying to ignore the blood all over the doctor’s hands.

“He’s got a massive head injury,” Carson replied. He looked up as the medical team rushed into the room and waved them over. As he spoke to them, his voice was calm and reassuring, but there was no hiding the note of urgency.

“Quickly now. We need to get this bleeding stopped. Mike, hand me some bandages,” Carson held out a bloodied hand to a nearby nurse.

Elizabeth stepped back to let the medical team work. She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions in check as she caught glimpses of John’s bloodied and pale face. Carson continued to shout out clipped orders, and the team gently flipped John’s body over and onto the gurney.

At that moment, she noticed John’s hand begin to move, reaching out but grasping only air. She stepped forward, but medical personnel swarmed around the gurney, preventing her from getting any closer.

“Carson!” She yelled over the chaos. The doctor glanced up at her and she pointed to his hand.

“He’s awake!”

Carson looked down at his patient and noticed the uncoordinated, jerky movements of the hand. He bent over John’s face, speaking softly.

“Colonel? Can you hear me, lad?”

John’s eyes stayed stubbornly shut, but his arms and legs began moving around slightly. Carson reached out and grabbed the nearest errant hand.

“John, it’s Carson. Can you open your eyes for me?”

John’s only response was a slight groan, but Carson felt the colonel’s hand squeeze his weakly. He signaled the others to prepare to move him to the infirmary.

“Gently, now. We don’t want to do any more damage than what’s already been done. And someone wake Amadine.”

The group around the gurney moved smoothly but quickly down the hall toward the infirmary. Elizabeth managed to squeeze in between two of the nurses and grab John’s other hand. She felt her heart beating frantically in her chest as John gripped her fingers. The pressure was barely noticeable, but it was there.

“John, just hang on. You’re going to be alright. You’re home in Atlantis,” she said. At the sound of her voice, his eyelids began to flutter. Carson slowed down the gurney and tried to catch John’s attention once again.

“John, can you open your eyes?” He asked. John groaned, his grip on Elizabeth’s hand tightening.

“Come on, son. I need to know what happened to you.”

They reached the infirmary and more people swarmed around the bed to help, but Elizabeth refused to move.

“John, listen to Carson. You’re safe, but we need to know what happened to you and the rest of your team,” she prodded.

John finally opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. Carson gripped the side of his face, trying to get the injured man to focus on him for a few seconds.

“John?” He asked.

“Mmm’ tt…mm…” John mumbled so quietly that it was barely audible.

“Your team didn’t come through with you, John. Do you remember what happened?” Elizabeth leaned forward.

“T..t’..mm...” John’s eyes slid shut again.

“What was that, son? John?” Carson asked, tapping the other man’s cheek, but to no avail. Elizabeth reached out, hoping to wake him again, but Carson shook his head.

“It’s no use. He’s out again,” he said.

Elizabeth nodded, finally stepping back as one of the nurses gently pushed her toward the waiting room area, promising to keep her updated on his condition. She caught one last glimpse of Carson and his medical team working in a chaotic dance around Colonel Sheppard, before she forced herself to turn away and walk out of the infirmary and back toward the conference room. She wanted nothing more than to wait for news of her friend, but she had three other people in trouble that needed her at the moment. She took a deep breath as she stepped into the conference room where Major Lorne’s team and Radek Zalenka’s group anxiously awaited her.

* * *

CHAPTER 2

  
John looked up at the whining sound in the sky, frantically search for its source. He knew that sound. The hairs on the back of his head stood on end, and a feeling of icy dread filled his gut.

“Run!” He yelled. He knew that sound. The whining was growing louder. He felt his legs moving, pounding against the rubble-strewn street. He turned back to signal to his team to take cover when he noticed they were gone. Disappeared. One second he was surrounded by them; the next second he stood in the middle of the street all alone.

“McKay? Teyla? Ronon?” He called out. His voice echoed through the empty street and darkened buildings.

“Where are you guys?” John glanced up as the whining sound grew so loud that some the rocks and debris on the ground began to shake. He began running through the streets, straining his eyes as he peered into every dark corner for his team. The sound of distant explosions echoed through the devastated town.

John suddenly found himself in the middle of some kind of town square. He spun around, looking for any sign of life. Some of the buildings around him were half standing, half destroyed. Piles of rubble littered the square where other buildings had once stood tall. The whining pitch reached painful heights and John desperately tried to cover his ears with his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something thin and black crash into the building in front of him. Before he could do more than blink, the entire building erupted into flames, and a blast of hot air and shrapnel rushed toward his face.

  
“No!” John half screamed, half choked as he came awake abruptly from the nightmare. His body jerked back into consciousness and he was immediately overcome with a stabbing pain in head. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the pain increased, spreading down his neck and chest. With it came waves of dizziness and his stomach churned with nausea. A loud beeping noise pierced through the pain, and suddenly someone’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Easy, Colonel,” the soft Scottish brogue soothed. “You’re alright, lad. You’re in the infirmary.”

John recognized that voice. He turned his head toward the man, then groaned at the spike of pain that small movement caused. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes slowly and tried to focus on the blurry form of Carson Beckett leaning over him and peering down at him in concern.

“Wh—aa..?” John’s voice sounded weak and slurred, and he felt his heart pound faster. What had happened to him? He wondered.

“You’re home, on Atlantis,” Carson said. John felt the doctor grab hold of his wrist to feel for the pulse. A second later he felt a cool metal disk slide across his chest pausing over his heart and lungs. “Just take a minute to get your bearings. Deep breaths for me now.”

“Hhh-ead….’urtsss…”

“Aye, I imagine it does, son.” Carson moved the stethoscope and readjusted Sheppard’s blankets. “I’ll get you something for the pain in a minute.”

John groaned in response. The pain was relentless. He opened his eyes to look back up at the doctor, but even that seemed to sap all of his energy.

“You were pretty seriously injured, John. Do you remember what happened?” Carson stood above him, his hand on John’s shoulder again. He looked concerned and exhausted.

John stared back at him, searching his memory for what had happened. Images from his recent nightmare flashed unbidden to his mind.

“Umm……ex..explo..s.’n…mm’ybe...” It was getting harder and harder for him to force the words out. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus his muddled mind. “Wha…. happ..’n’d..Cc’rr…s’n?”

Somehow Carson seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “Easy, John. Take it easy. You suffered a massive head injury and you’ve been unconscious for over 24 hours. It’s not unexpected to have some memory loss. You also bruised your right lung pretty badly.”

John felt the hand squeeze his shoulder, grounding him. He opened his eyes again, willing the throbbing in his head to let up for just a few seconds.

“He..eadd? …donnn’t ‘n-dderss..’nd.” John lay there for minute trying to get his mind to catch up with his body and everything that had happened. Images of a building exploding in front of him flashed through his mind. A sudden thought jerked him out of his stupor. He grabbed Beckett’s arm in earnest.

“T’..mm? Wh-wh’rress mm’ tt..eam? …’ll ri..ghtt..?”

“John…Easy, lad.” Carson looked down in concern at Sheppard pale face. Beads of sweat had broken out on the man’s forehead and he was beginning to pant. His eyes were glassy with pain, but he stared intently at the Scottish doctor.

“Rrr..dney…Rrr..n’n? …T…’lla?” John gasped. His world had begun to spin dangerously, and his stomach clenched. He moaned, clutching the bedrail and Beckett’s arm. “Pp..leassse?” He begged the doctor.

Carson rubbed the bridge of his nose, finally deciding Sheppard would not relax until he knew about his team.

“You were on a trading mission. You were thrown through the gate by an explosion on the other side. Your team didn’t come through with you.”

“Wh…why?…wh’rre?”

“We don’t know, John.”

“Hhh…’ve …go b’..ck..”

“Whoa!” Carson explained as John suddenly tried to pull himself upright with more strength than Beckett thought was possible. He grabbed a hold of his patient as John’s strength disappeared as quickly as it had come. His faced had gone ashen. Carson, already knowing what was coming, quickly turned Sheppard onto his side as the Colonel lost his battle against the nausea and began to gag. A nurse appeared, hearing the commotion and helped Carson get John settled once he stopped retching She silently nodded toward one of the monitors, and Carson grimaced in return, reaching for the oxygen mask already near Sheppard’s bed.

“Lay back, son,” Beckett soothed. He waited a moment while the nurse cleaned Sheppard’s face with a damp cloth before fixing the mask over the man’s face. “Breathe,” he commanded.

“…gg-go…b..’kk…ttt…mmm,” John mumbled under the mask.

“Sssshhh…just rest, lad. You’re going to fine.” Carson spoke softly, injecting something into Sheppard’s IV. He waited while the drug took effect, not standing up until Sheppard’s restless movements quieted and the man fell back into a sedated sleep.

* * *

  
The next time Sheppard woke up, his rise to consciousness was much more gradual. It was usually the sounds that came first—the beeping of heart monitors, the quiet murmur of voices trying not to disturb patients, the occasional squeak of a rolling cart. This time, however, the first thing he noticed was the feel of a cool sheet on his skin. His head felt oddly constricted as well. Soon after, he noticed the soft mattress beneath him, but it was different than his room, his bed. Where was he?

He turned his head, intending to open his eyes and look around, but a sharp pain shot through his head. He groaned, trying to still the pain that was spreading.

“John?”

A voice floated somewhere above his head, and he felt a warm hand on his arm. He tried to open his eyes, but it felt like he had lead weights holding his eyelids down. The hand on his arm disappeared, and he heard the voice again—this time farther away.

“Carson, I think he’s waking up again.”

A second later the hand was back, squeezing his arm. He felt another hand on the side of his face, surprising him enough that he finally opened his eyes.

“Hey, there. How are you feeling?” Elizabeth Weir asked, concern pulling at the features of her face.

John looked up at her intending to answer, but as he opened his mouth to respond, his throat tightened. He began coughing, causing the pain in his head to spike and spread down to his fingertips. He was vaguely aware of Elizabeth telling him Beckett was on his way. He felt an ice chip on his lips, and he opened his mouth instinctively. The water finally wet the dryness in his throat, quieting the coughing fit. He closed his eyes, groaning against the pain.

“John? You’re alright. Just hang on.”

Elizabeth’s voice sounded distant, but as he lay perfectly still, the pain gradually ebbed. He opened his eyes after a few deep breaths, and looked up at Elizabeth.

“Hhh..’rtsss...” he hissed.

“I know. Carson’s coming.”

John swallowed against the cough building in the back of his throat, dreading the pain that would erupt if he fell into another coughing fit. Elizabeth seemed to notice his distress. She quickly turned to the stand next to his bed and grabbed the cup of ice chips sitting there.

“Here, have another ice chip,” she said. John sucked on the ice, moaning slightly in relief.

“Better?” Elizabeth asked with a smile.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough and hoarse, and sounded weak. As he looked around the infirmary, he wondered again what had happened. The image of a building exploding flashed through his mind again, causing him to jerk forward. He gasped at the sudden onslaught of pain, and the room began to spin wildly.

“Easy, lad,” someone was speaking to him, but all he could hear was a rushing sound around his head, like he was underwater. White spots began dancing in front of his eyes and he struggled to pull in a breath. His vision grayed out for a second, and he felt a slight pressure against his face.

“Breathe, John. You’re alright,” the voice soothed.

John sucked in a deep breath, feeling the oxygen fill his starving lungs. He half wondered why it was so difficult to pull in air, but it took all his energy to just breathe at the moment. He took another breath, then another, and the feeling of the world tilting underneath him finally calmed down. He kept his eyes closed tightly until he was sure the dizziness had passed completely.

“Take your time, son.”

Sheppard looked up at the Scottish doctor after a few more deep breaths, and noticed how tired the man looked. He blinked, noticing the throbbing in his head was returning with a vengeance.

“How’s the pain?” Carson asked, still holding an oxygen mask to John’s face.

“Hhh…’eddd…” he mumbled through the mask, waving his arm weakly.

“Aye, I can see that,” Carson responded. He lifted the mask and watched the man’s breathing for a moment. When he was satisfied John’s breathing had settled down, he set the mask aside and began looking over his patient.

“Look here for a moment, John,” he said, checking his neurological responses. John did his best to do what Carson asked, but the effort it cost him was obvious.

“Good. Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“Chest, a little. M-my team?”

Elizabeth stepped up and gripped John’s arm, getting him to focus on her. She felt a pang of guilt stab through her at his look of desperation. “I’m sorry, John. We’ve tried to contact them over the radio, but they aren’t responding. It’s been over 36 hours now since you came back. Do you remember what happened?”

“Remember…umm…explosion…my team was there.”

“In the explosion?” Beckett asked, alarmed.

“Y-yeah…no...dd-don’t know...” John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His head was pounding and he felt hot and stifled. He swallowed and forced the words out of his mouth. “Can’t rem..member…have to g-go back…I have t-to…gg..get them,” he ground out. He tensed his body and tried to sit up.

“Whoa, John,” Elizabeth cried, grabbing a hold of John as he tried to move.

Beckett jumped into action as well and put his hand on Sheppard shoulder, easing him back down on the bed. He noticed the beads of sweat breaking out on the colonel’s forehead. The man’s face had gone extremely pale, the color of his skin matching the white bandage encasing his head.

“John, I need you to look at me. I’ll get you something for the pain, but you need to calm down, lad.”

“John, Lorne has been working on a rescue plan,” Elizabeth soothed, resting her hand on his forehead. “With the way the debris is positioned in front of the gate, there’s no way we can get through with a jumper and it’s too dangerous to send any teams on foot.”

“No,” John mumbled, feeling desperate and panicked. He looked up at Elizabeth, the pain in his eyes having nothing to do with his physical injuries. “I..left them…bb…behind...have g-go..bb’ck...I left th’m behind...”

“Someone bombards the area around the gate as soon as it’s activated,” Elizabeth explained, trying to get through to Sheppard.

“No…can’t…ssst..’ay…..lleffft..b’hind.” Sheppard began to roll to the side.

“Whoa, son. Where do you think you’re going?”

“SSss..’ck…”

Beckett reacted quickly and helped Sheppard roll onto his side as the man began to gag. A nurse rushed over to help, and Elizabeth stepped back to let them work. She bit her lip, feeling helpless and terrified at the scene in front of her. John’s pallor had gone gray, and she could see him panting against the pain as the nurse and Carson got him settled back into the bed. She knew the head injury he had suffered was serious; she’d seen the piece of shrapnel embedded in his head, and Carson’s guarded answers on whether or not he would be okay had set off major alarm bells. She shook herself, forcing herself to focus on the scene at hand.

“I’ve given you something for the pain, lad. You need to rest.” Carson was leaning over Sheppard, talking quietly while he placed an oxygen mask over his face.

“Left th’mmm…Why…Why d-did I…lea-leavvve…?”

“Ssshh, John. It’s alright.” Elizabeth stepped forward, gripping his limp arm. Even beneath the oxygen mask, she could hear the desperation. Her stomach churned at her own sense of helplessness. “You’re going to be alright,” she soothed.

John’s eyelids fluttered close as the medication finally took effect and he drifted asleep. Elizabeth and Beckett sat next to him in silence, lost in their own thoughts of what had happened to John and the possible fate of his team.

* * *

“Hey, Carson,” Elizabeth greeted. She knocked on the doorframe of Beckett’s office to get the doctor’s attention. Beckett glanced up from his work, smiling at the tray of food she held in her hand. He waved her in.

“I brought you some lunch. Some of your nurses mentioned you’d been working non-stop and hadn’t taken a moment to look after yourself.”

“Ach, sounds like I need to have a talk with some of my nurses,” Carson grumped, but he dug into the tray of food with a vengeance. “Thank you, Elizabeth. This is wonderful.”

“You’re welcome.” Elizabeth wandered over to the corner of his office where the images of John’s head hung on the wall. She bit her lip as she thought of what John had been through—of what he was still going through. She turned back to Carson.

“How is John doing?”

“Physically, he’s stronger. I’m having Doctor Amadine go over John’s case to determine how quickly we need to do surgery.”

“Surgery?”

“Aye, that piece of shrapnel is not big, but it can’t stay in there forever. He bruised his right lung pretty good at some point as well, which seems to be healing well enough, but it’s causing him a little trouble with his breathing though nothing we can’t help with. Right now, it’s his mental health I’m concerned about. A trauma like that can have a serious impact on your personality and general mental well-being as it is, but with the stress of not knowing or remembering what happened to Rodney, Teyla, or Ronon…” Carson shook his head. “Have you heard anything from them yet?”

Elizabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, nothing. We’ve dialed the planet every few hours, but we haven’t heard anything from them.” Elizabeth sat down in front of Beckett folding her arms tightly against her chest. “The whole area around the gate is devastated—completely bombarded. Radek has been studying the footage from the MALP, but there’s no way to get through with a jumper with all the debris laying over the top of the stargate…”

“The gate’s buried?”

“Not buried. It looks like a bunch of columns or statues have been tipped or blown over and are resting against the top of the gate. A jumper could get into the area directly in front of the gate, but Radek says the columns are too heavy to just plow through.”

“What about a drone? Not that I like thinking about those buggers.”

“The explosion from the drone would probably destroy the jumper, and there’s the very serious possibility that any explosion we set off will destroy the stargate as well.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, unable to shake the stress of the last few days. “The way they start bombing the area as soon as we activate it…the risk of sending a team on foot is too great. Carson, I just don’t know what else we can do.”

“What about the Daedalus?”

“Colonel Caldwell said it would be another week before the Daedalus’s repairs are completed, and then another two and a half weeks before it reaches the planet. Not to mention the fact that it’s already been almost three days since John came back. Whatever happened on that planet…I just don’t know if Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon can survive that long.”

“I don’t know if Colonel Sheppard can survive that long.” Carson’s gaze wandered over to the X-rays of Sheppard’s skull. “Even if he does heal physically, I don’t know if we can get the old John back without his team. He’s absolutely obsessed with finding them. The fact that he came back here and left them behind is killing him.”

“I’m sure he had a reason.”

“Of course he did. But he’s not in any condition to think through anything logically right now, and he has no memory of what happened. All he knows right now is that he left his team behind, and now we can’t get back there to help them.”

“Aaaaggghhhhh!”

Carson and Elizabeth both jumped at the sound of Sheppard’s anguished yell. They ran out of his office to Sheppard’s bed in time to see him shoving a bowl of soup toward the nurse. The nurse jumped back, but not quickly enough as the soup splashed up onto her shirt.

“Colonel! I don’t know why I put up with this.”

Elizabeth and Carson stepped out of the way as the nurse stormed by. They looked back at John, but he had his arms folded and his eyes closed, studiously trying to ignore everything around him.

“How are you feeling today, John?” Elizabeth asked.

John shifted in the bed, grimacing.

“John?”

He finally looked over at Elizabeth.

“I have to leave. I need to leave. Please.”

“John, you have a piece of metal in your head. You can hardly even sit up, let alone stand.”

“You don’t understand, Elizabeth. I have to go after my team. I have to get them!” He frowned, bringing a hand up to rub his face. He was still extremely pale, with dark circles under his eyes that only heightened his haunted expression. “Why isn’t anyone trying to help them?” He yelled, banging his hand against the bedrail. “Where’s Lorne? I want to talk to Lorne before he goes back to the planet.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She’d been warned about the extreme mood swings John had been experiencing, but this was the first time she’d ever seen him this angry. “John, Major Lorne is not going back to the planet.”

“What do you mean he’s not going back?” He yelled. Carson moved forward as one of the monitors began to beep rapidly.

“There isn’t going to be a rescue, John,” Elizabeth said quietly. She sat down next to him and reached for his hand, hoping to calm him down. “We’re doing everything we can, but right now, there’s no way for us to get back to that planet.”

“No,” John groaned, jerking his hand away from Elizabeth.

“I’m sorry, John. Radek is working on a way to clear out enough of the debris for a puddle jumper to fit through, but the risk of destroying the gate completely might be too high.”

An image of a building exploding around his team flashed through John’s mind again. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, trying to squeeze out the memories. A warm hand on his arm wrenched him back to the present. “We don’t leave our people behind,” he said, his eyes flashing. He noticed Elizabeth flinch, but he was too worked up to pull back. He banged his arms against the bedrails, the pounding in his chest matching the rapid beeping of the heart monitor.

“Colonel, you need to calm down,” Beckett commanded, grabbing a hold of one of Sheppard’s arms.

“We can’t—I can’t leave them behind,” John yelled.

Elizabeth glanced at Beckett. “John—” She began. John suddenly went limp beneath both her and Carson’s hands.

“No, no, no, no, no, no…” he whispered. He sunk back into the bed. His surge of energy had disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. He felt Elizabeth grip his shoulder, but he turned away from her, exhausted.

“John, we’re working with Colonel Caldwell, but the Daedalus is down for repairs for at least another week, and then it would take a good three weeks to reach the planet after that.”

“I’m tired,” he rasped, closing his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry, John. We’re doing everything we can to find your team, but they haven’t responded to our calls at all.”

“He needs his rest, Elizabeth,” Carson interjected, concern etching his haggard face. He looked almost as tired as John.

Elizabeth nodded. “John, you need to know we are trying to get Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon back. We haven’t given up on them yet.”

John just moaned in response. Beckett noticed the sheen of sweat covering his patient’s face and cursed himself for letting John get so worked up. “How’s the pain, John?”

John didn’t answer, just brought a hand to his face covering his eyes. He could feel tears building up behind his eyelids as he fought for control of his emotions. He didn’t move as Carson fiddled with his IV, but he breathed a sigh of relief as the pain killers hit.

“I’m here, John, if you need me,” Elizabeth said.

John didn’t dare look at her. The images and sounds of explosions again flashed through his mind, threatening to consume him, and he flinched. Whatever Carson had given him was strong, and he felt sleep pulling him under. He shuddered at the final image of his nightmare—the faces of his team disappearing in an explosion.

Elizabeth looked up at Carson, the pain and worry she felt reflected in his eyes. He patted her back before heading back to his office. Elizabeth sat next to John and he fell asleep, watching him twitch and shudder at whatever memories he was seeing before finally going still. She pulled his hand away from his face and tucked it under the blankets. She swallowed the lump in her own throat as she wiped the tears off his pale face.

* * *

CHAPTER 3

 _Smoke curled around the buildings and over piles of debris from bombed out buildings. It was quiet. Too quiet. John looked around at the devastated street, knowing that only hours before, the town had stood pristine, filled with people going about their daily business. His team stood quietly behind him, even Rodney, shocked not as much at the level of destruction but at the speed with which it had reached that point. They began walking, their steps echoing along the abandoned street._

 __

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 _Something changed overhead. A distant buzzing sound that began so quietly that John wasn’t sure when it had started. One second it was deathly silent, the next second he was looking up at the whining sound in the sky. A thought came to his mind._  
I know that sound.  
 _He wracked his brain, grasping at memories that slipped his mind as soon as they appeared. He knew that sound, that whining, buzzing sound. John looked up, frantically searching for its source. He had heard that sound before, somewhere, and it made him nervous. The hairs on the back of his head stood on end, and a feeling of icy dread filled his gut._

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 _“Run!” He yelled. The whining was growing louder. He felt his legs moving, pounding against the rubble-strewn street. He turned back to signal to his team to take cover, spinning in the empty street when he suddenly realized they were gone. Disappeared. He heard the sound of a distant explosion, and he spun around once again._

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 _“McKay? Teyla? Ronon?” He called out. His voice echoed through the empty street and darkened buildings._

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 _“Where are you guys?” John glanced up as the whining sound grew so loud that some the rocks and debris on the ground began to shake. He began running through the streets, calling for his team in a near panic. Distant explosions continued to echo through the devastated town._

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 _“Ronon? McKay? This isn’t funny, guys,” he yelled. He flinched as an explosion one street over threw bits of rock that whizzed by his face, seemingly from nowhere in his mad dash through the war-torn streets._

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 _“Teyla?”_

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 _The whine grew louder. He could feel the street vibrating under his feet. Bombs. Rockets. Missiles. Whatever was heading his way would rip the area apart. He started running faster, desperate for his team._

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 _John suddenly found himself in the middle of some kind of town square. He spun around, not sure how he’d reached this area, looking for any sign of life. Some of the buildings around him were half standing, half destroyed. Piles of rubble littered the square where other buildings had once stood tall. The whining pitch reached painful heights and John desperately tried to cover his ears with his hands. He looked up into the overcast sky and watched in horror as something thin and black crashed into the building in front of him. The town square grew terrifyingly silent._

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 _He stared at the building in front of him, suddenly knowing what he would see—who he would see. Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla stared back at him through a broken window. He screamed, waving his arms, but they didn’t move, didn’t react. John knew he was yelling, screaming so hard his throat was on fire, but his team stared back at him, their faces frozen in the frame of the broken window. He stepped toward them, reaching out._

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 _  
John had managed less than two steps before the entire building erupted into flames, and a blast of hot air and shrapnel rushed at him. The force of the blast threw him backward. John’s body slammed into a pile of debris as the world around him disintegrated.  
_

“No!” John choked. He flew forward out of the infirmary bed, tumbling over the side. The infirmary was dark and quiet, obviously late at night or very early in the morning. The only thing still attached had been an IV, which had been painfully ripped out in the first few seconds of waking up, so no alarms sounded when John found himself on the floor beside his bed.

The world spun around him. John desperately tried to grip the smooth floor, panting. His head throbbed, the pain so intense he could hardly keep his eyes open. His stomach twisted, and John groaned, knowing what was coming next and hoping desperately his body wouldn’t betray him.

He gagged, then choked, trying to hold the nausea at bay. His arms were shaking from the effort of holding himself up. Right when he thought he had gained control of his rebelling stomach, it suddenly spasmed and he found himself retching the small amount of soup he’d managed to eat hours earlier.

He felt himself panting and knew he had to get his breathing under control, but each ragged breath brought the pain radiating in his head to unbearable levels. His vision began to gray out. He leaned to the side just as his arm strength gave out, and collapsed on the floor.

  
 _“John! Where are you John?” Teyla’s voice floated through the abandoned, war-torn town._

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John jerked awake, still panting. The image of Teyla’s face rose to his mind, and the sound of her voice seemed to echo in his head. The infirmary was still dark, the pile of vomit near his head still fresh. He gagged, pushing himself away from the vomit and swallowing. He must have only been unconscious for a few seconds.

He curled into himself, moaning. He half wished someone would find him, half wished the floor would just swallow him up. Images of explosions again flashed through his mind, along with the faces of his team disappearing under piles of rubble.

“Stop, please…” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around his head. He hardly noticed the thick bandage on his head rubbing against his hands.

More images flashed through his mind, and he suddenly realized they were actual memories, not just images created in his dreams. He dug his hands into his face, as if he could stop the sudden flow of memories from streaming out. He remembered the planet. Remembered how his team had unknowingly stepped into a precarious political situation. How their arrival had been the catalyst for the two strongest rival factions to go to war. How the bombs and rockets had rained down on the clean-cut little town they had first arrived at within a matter of hours.

And he remembered his team. They had worked their way toward the stargate, weaving through the suddenly abandoned streets in the early morning hours. He remembered the building they had taken shelter in.

He also remembered that same building being hit by a rocket with his team still in it. Somehow, he was thrown away from the tumbling debris, but when he looked up, there was almost nothing left of the building.

“No, no, no, no…” John mumbled. Rodney’s, Ronon’s, and Teyla’s faces flashed through his mind again, framed in the broken window and surrounded by flames. With a sudden surge of energy, he pulled himself up into a standing position. The pain in his head spiked, and he had to lean against the bed as his body was wracked with dizziness and nausea.

He had left them. He had left his team behind. He was the one usually fighting to rescue the people left behind enemy lines. Strangers, most of them. He couldn’t remember why he wasn’t in the building with his team, but he had been separated from them. Of all the people he had ever tried to rescue, it was his team that he had left behind.

He took a deep breath and forced the images of his team in the burning building from his mind. He wouldn’t leave them behind. He couldn’t leave them behind. He staggered across the infirmary, barely aware of his surroundings, with one goal on his mind. He would go back to the planet. He would get his team.

At that hour in the morning, most people were asleep in their quarters, so no one saw John Sheppard stumbling down the hallway toward the jumper bay, leaning against the wall to keep himself upright and barely coherent enough to know he was heading in the right direction.

* * *

 _“Elizabeth? Come in, Elizabeth,”_ Beckett’s panicked voice sounded over the intercom in Weir’s room. She jerked awake, wondering for a second what had jarred her out of her sleep. It had taken her hours to finally fall asleep, and she still felt drained.

 _“Elizabeth, please come in.”_ Beckett was practically screaming into his mike. Elizabeth recognized the panic in his voice. The fear was almost palpable.

“I’m here, Carson,” Elizabeth said as she grabbed her radio and stuffed it in her ear. “What’s going on? Is it John?”

  
 _“Aye. I just got frantic call from the nurse on duty. John’s missing.”_

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“What? How can he be missing? He can’t even get out of bed.” Elizabeth had changed out of her nightgown within a matter of seconds and was already running down the hallway toward the infirmary.

  
 _“I don’t know. I’m heading to the infirmary right now.”_

Elizabeth could hear a slight breathlessness in Carson’s voice and realized he must be running through the halls of Atlantis as well. She reached a transporter, and it took all the willpower she had to not pound on the doors. She flew out of the transporter a few seconds later, running again toward the infirmary. She arrived at the same time as Beckett came rushing around the opposite corner. They nodded to each other as they walked through the doors.

“What happened?” Beckett demanded, trying to catch his breath. The nurse in front of him was in a full panic.

“I don’t know, Doctor Beckett. Valerie was still feeling nauseous, so I went to help her. When I came over here to check on Colonel Sheppard, he was gone.” She waved her hand toward Sheppard’s empty bed, almost in tears.

Beckett walked over to the bed and signaled to Weir. Elizabeth hurried over and brought a hand to her mouth as she saw the pile of vomit next to the bed. Beckett squatted down, looking at.

“It’s still relatively fresh. He hasn’t been gone long.”

“Doctor Beckett, I checked on him less than 45 minutes ago and he was sound asleep.”

“Aye, Thank you, Paula.” Beckett stood, gripping the night nurse’s arm reassuringly.

Elizabeth stared at the disheveled bed, averting her eyes from the spots of blood on the bed.

Beckett noticed her look. “It’s from the IV. He must have ripped it out when he woke up.” The doctor shook his head. “I should have been here. I can’t imagine how he must have woken up.”

  
“It’s not your fault, Carson. You’re doing everything you can for him.” Elizabeth stepped away from the bed and tapped her radio. She called for security teams to begin their search for their CO as she walked out of the infirmary. Carson grabbed a medical bag and quickly joined her.

“He can’t have gotten far, not in his condition.”

“Which way do you think he went?” Elizabeth asked. She looked up and down the corridor, but it was empty.

“If I was an errant Colonel with a head injury…” Beckett mumbled.

The two turned left and began walking quickly, checking the darkened rooms along the way. As they reached another intersection, they still hadn’t come across any sign of John.

“Where would he go?” Elizabeth yelled, the frustration exploding out of her. She remembered the way he had looked only hours ago, his face pale and drawn with dark circles under his eyes. He’d looked weak and lost, mumbling about his team as he’d drifted off to sleep. _His team!_ Elizabeth stopped, grabbing Carson by the arm.

“I know where he went,” she said.

“Where?”

“His team. He went to get his team. He’s going to the—”

“Jumper bay!” Carson finished. They took off running down the hall. As they rounded the final corner, they saw a man kneeling just outside the door. Elizabeth recognized him as one of the engineers under Radek Zelenka. The man looked up at the two people running toward him, and Elizabeth’s heart stuttered at the look of shock on the engineer’s face.

Carson picked up his pace as he realized what the engineer was kneeling next to. He could just make out John Sheppard’s leg in the dim, early morning hours. He thought the lights on as he dropped his medical bag next to the Colonel.

Sheppard had finally collapsed in the alcove leading to the jumper bay, and he sat slumped over against the door. Carson reached out, feeling for the pulse in John’s neck, and grimaced at what he found. He called for medical team, then tried to rouse the unconscious man.

“John? Lad, can you hear me?” He rubbed his knuckles across Sheppard’s chest but got no response. He glanced at Elizabeth, unable to hide his concern. John’s skin was gray and slick with sweat, his breathing shallow but fast. There was a little bit of blood on John’s arm from the IV, but as Carson checked the bandage around John’s head, he gasped.

“What is it, Carson?”

“His head is bleeding again. It’s soaked through his bandage. Hand me my bag.”

He grabbed the bag out of Elizabeth’s hands as she handed it over. He’d seen Elizabeth’s expression but he couldn’t pause long to reassure her. His medical training kicked into high gear as they waited for the medical team. It arrived a few minutes later, just as he pulled an oxygen mask over John’s face. They moved quickly to get the unconscious man on the gurney, and Carson noticed his eyes fluttering as they laid him down. They began moving down the hallway, and Carson reached down to grip Sheppard’s shoulder.

“John? Are you with me, son?”

* * *

John flinched at the sounds and images of bombs exploding around him. He was distantly aware of hands on his chest, neck, and head, but the flood of memories had him in a relentless grip. He heard his team calling out to him, saw them disappearing under a pile of debris as a building collapsed on top of them.

The world around him suddenly began to move, but he could do nothing to stop the dizzying whirl. Even his voice refused to cooperate as he tried to moan. His team screamed, and he jerked at the sound of fear and pain in their voices. This was not a dream. John was sure of it. This had happened.

His world suddenly stopped moving and he heard distant voices talking around him. One voice stood out above the rest, the accent unmistakable even in John’s nearly incoherent state. Beckett.

“John? Are you with me, son?”

John tried to open his eyes and look at the Scottish doctor, but it hurt even thinking about moving. As a warm hand gripped his shoulder, he finally peeled his eyes open enough to see the doctor leaning over him, worry and fear dominating his face.

“Just relax, son. We’re getting you back to the infirmary.”

“No,” John croaked. As much as it hurt, John kept his eyes focused on Beckett’s face.

“You’re bleeding again, John. I don’t know how bad the damage is, but we’re going to take care of you now.”

“My team…” he whispered.

“Son, I’m sorry. You need to take care of yourself right now.”

John squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness passed over him. He waited for everything to stop moving, belatedly realizing that he was on a gurney that was moving down the familiar hallway. He’d been going toward the Jumper bay. He suddenly remembered stumbling down the hall, desperate to help his team.

The image of his team screaming at him as the building they’d taken shelter in collapsed again flashed through his mind. He jerked violently at the memory, and would have sat up had Carson not kept a hand firmly on the sick man’s chest.

“Easy, lad. We’re almost there.”

“I remember…Carson, I remember.” It was no more than a whisper but Beckett glanced down at the absolute anguish he heard in John’s voice.

“Remember what, John?” Beckett looked over at Elizabeth in alarm.

“My team. I remember my team.”

“What happened to them? John, where are they?” Elizabeth leaned forward as the group around the gurney moved quickly toward the infirmary.

“Dead,” he choked. He moved one of his hands toward his face, but Elizabeth grabbed it. “They’re dead. I saw them die.”

Elizabeth and Carson looked down Sheppard as the man began to choke on silent sobs. Elizabeth reached forward, putting a hand on the side of his face. John looked over her, the pain evident in his glassy eyes, but she wasn’t sure if it was pain from his physical injuries or the memory of watching his team perish.

“Are you sure, lad?”

“Building…exploded…they were in it. I saw them,” he moaned, not noticing the tears falling down his face. “I hear them screaming. I keep seeing them die…”

As the gurney reached the infirmary, Elizabeth was forced to stop as the medical personnel continued on. She let go of John’s trembling hand and watched him disappear behind a swarm of nurses and doctors. She brought a hand to her mouth, desperately trying to keep herself from screaming, unable to stop the flood of tears spilling down her own face.

* * *

CHAPTER 4

Late the next morning, Carson stood wearily by the computer monitor as the ancient scanner passed over Colonel Sheppard. After the events of the evening before, John was completely worn out, drifting in and out of sleep. Occasionally, he would jerk and look wildly around him, seeming to hear something no one else could hear. Carson had tried to engage him in conversation a few times, but John had simply closed his eyes and fallen back to sleep.

The newly arrived, arrogant Doctor Amadine had lost his arrogance when presented with John’s case and his medical expertise was put to the test. He’d even shown a compassionate side when he was told of what had happened in the middle of the night. As he studied the readings from the scan, Carson began to see the man’s brilliance, and realized his earlier arrogance was most likely nervousness.

Sheppard’s eyes fluttered, and Carson sat down next to the bed, resting his hand on the sick man’s arm. John gave no sign that he had noticed Carson. He blinked heavily a few times, staring up at the ceiling. With John’s physical well-being in the hands of Amadine for the moment, Carson had more time to worry about his patient’s mental well-being. After the stunning revelation of the night before, John had not said a single word. Carson closed his eyes briefly, the raw sorrow of hearing that Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon had all been killed cutting into him. He gripped Sheppard’s arm more tightly and wished there was something he could do to fix the last remaining member of Atlantis’ flagship team.

John had lain languid and listless since he’d been brought back to the infirmary, ignoring the nurses’ and doctors’ administrations around him. There were moment when he was genuinely unconscious, but he was so weak, his periodic moments of wakefulness were barely noticeable.

Carson sighed at memory of the scene he had witness earlier that morning. One of the new nurses, only recently arrived a few days earlier with the Daedalus, had brought a bowl of some kind of Malt-O-Meal hot cereal to Sheppard only to find the man still fully reclined on the bed. She’d set the bowl down on the moveable tray next to him and then moved to raise the bed. She seemed to slip at this point, and her flailing arm knocked the bowl of cereal. Carson had watched the bowl land hard on John’s chest and stomach, its contents spilling all over the bed and splattering both nurse and patient in the face.

Carson and another nearby nurse had quickly come over, and the first thing that he noticed was that John was awake, staring numbly at the ceiling. The second thing he noticed was that John had not reacted to either being hit by the bowl or covered in the hot mash. The nurses cleaned him up and changed the sheets, and John neither helped nor resisted their efforts.

It was that level of disconnection that had Beckett concerned now. As the ancient scanner passed overhead again, he glanced down at his friend and noticed his eyes had slid shut. Doctor Amadine waved the doctor over, and Carson wearily walked over to him.

“What do you think?” He asked.

Amadine rubbed his chin and continued to stare at the images on the screen. “Not very good choices, I think,” he finally said, his accent growing even thicker with worry. “To remove shrapnel would be extremely dangerous. Atlantis is well equipped for almost any surgery, but this would be very tricky.”

“Can you do the surgery?”

“I can do it, yes, but it would be better to do it back on Earth at a facility specialized in these types of injuries. Also, there is option to not do surgery at all.”

“Would he survive without surgery?” Carson asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Survive, yes—for now anyway. But he would not be like he was before. He would suffer from dizziness and nausea always, and he would continue to grow weaker until he was unable to care for himself.”

“No surgery would also mean the end of his career.”

“Yes,” Amadine conceded. “But, he is very weak now. There is high chance he would not survive surgery anyway.”

Carson pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to push back the headache that was beginning to build. “So what you’re telling me is he either doesn’t get the surgery, goes back to Earth, and lives the rest of his probably short life in a nursing home, or he gets the surgery with a high probability of not surviving anyway? Is that the best we can do?”

“If anyone can save him, I can,” Amadine replied, the sincerity in his voice overriding any arrogance some might have found in that statement.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him. He should be the one to make this decision,” Carson finally said.

Amadine glanced back at Sheppard laying motionless on the scanner bed. “Good luck, friend,” he said.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir sat by John Sheppard’s bed a few hours later, her mind reeling from the information Carson had just conveyed. She held John’s limp hand, absently rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, and watched the even rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Carson had called with an update on John’s condition and explained his options. She’d agreed with Carson that John should be the one to make that decision, but when Carson had told her that he’d finally gotten through to John and told him his options, John had immediately refused the surgery.

To say Elizabeth had been shocked was an understatement. No matter what had happened to him before, John had never been one to give up. His refusal of treatment now showed her how deeply this injury had effected him, and she began to wonder if the old John Sheppard would ever resurface. She refused to consider the possibility that he was gone for good any further, and now found herself sitting by his bedside waiting for him to wake with the intent of talking him out of his decision.

John groaned, and Elizabeth sat straighter in her chair. After the scans had been completed that morning, Carson had moved Sheppard into one of the private rooms in the back. Elizabeth was grateful for that privacy now. She took a deep breath as John’s eyes began to flutter open and tried to prepare herself for one of the most important discussions of her life. Despite having slept for most of the last five days, John’s face was drawn with exhaustion.

“John?” She asked quietly, squeezing his hand.

John groaned again in response and swallowed convulsively. As he opened his eyes, he stared unseeing at the ceiling above him.

“John?” Elizabeth called again.

The sound of her voice seemed to catch his attention, and he slowly brought his focus down to Elizabeth’s face. He swallowed again, and Elizabeth grabbed a cup of water on the bedside table, bringing the straw to his mouth. She watched him swallow a few mouthfuls before pulling the cup away.

John continued to watch her but he remained silent. Elizabeth supposed this was better than the totally disconnected state he’d been in earlier, but fear for his future gave little room for any sense of relief. She took his hand in hers again and took a deep breath.

“I know Carson already talked to you about the surgery and what you’re options are, and I know you told him you don’t want the surgery, but I’m asking you to reconsider.”

John continued to stare back at her, but he made no reply.

“I’m not sure you realize how important you are to the success of Atlantis. Every member of this expedition owes their life to you more than once.” She took another deep breath. “The John Sheppard I know would not give up. He would not walk away from the chance of living a normal life.”

“Normal?” John whispered. “My team is dead.”

Elizabeth flinched, but she couldn’t back down now. “I know, John, and I’m sorry. Their deaths have been hard on everyone, you most of all. But you can still have a life. You are not dead, John.”

“Wish I was,” he whispered, turning his head away. His voice was so low that Elizabeth almost didn’t hear him.

“Don’t say that,” she said fiercely, standing up and grabbing him by both shoulders. The action startled him, and he glanced up at Elizabeth towering over him. “Don’t give up, John,” she begged.

“No,” he answered.

“No, what?”

“I don’t want the surgery. I can’t do it anymore.”

“John—”

“No,” he said. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the wall. Elizabeth sat down, stunned at the defeat and finality in his voice. After a few moments, she gently took his hand again and watched as he fell back asleep.

* * *

CHAPTER 5

The sun was beginning to beat down on the once prospering town. It baked into the piles of rubble littering the empty streets. The air was quiet and still, but there was a tenseness in the air as if the little town could sense that the silence was just a temporary lull and the bombardment would begin again in earnest. Strange echoes reverberated through the streets, like the footsteps of ghosts tapping along the ruined cobblestones. The ground was still wet from the downpour of the evening before, and as the sun hit its zenith, the water on the streets and bombed out buildings began to steam. The wisps of steam curled and wove in air currents only it could sense, then dissipated.

“Where the hell is Sheppard?” McKay asked. Both Ronon and Teyla ignored him. It had become his mantra over the last five days whenever the silence became too much. He wasn’t sure which was worse—the incessant sound of exploding bombs or the deathly stillness.

“Seriously, it’s been five days. Why isn’t he back here with a puddle jumper?” McKay rubbed his hands and moved further into the patch of sunlight streaming through a broken out window. They had taken shelter in the remains of this building the evening before, and though it was growing hot now, the night had been chilly, hinting at the coming winter.

Ronon grunted in response, then moved to the door and peered cautiously down the street. McKay frowned at him, then turned his attention to Teyla. The bandage over Teyla’s forehead had been white, but it was now brown and gritty. They’d put off changing it considering their dwindling supplies, but thoughts of infections ran through McKay’s mind. He raised his eyebrows, prodding her for an answer.

“I do not know Rodney,” Teyla answered. She was leaning against the walls with her arms wrapped around her midsection. She looked and sounded exhausted, and her eyes were dull with pain.

They were all exhausted. After Sheppard had left, they’d moved around the town from bombed-out building to bombed-out building to avoid the military patrols roaming the streets. McKay had been tempted to make their presence known after the first day, but Ronon had literally sat on him to stop him. A few minutes later, he’d witnessed a patrol chasing a civilian it had routed from another building. They’d turned a corner, but the gunshot that rang out a few seconds later had caused Rodney to jerk in fear, the fate of the civilian clear. From that point on, all three of them had stayed out of sight from anyone in a uniform, regardless of which side they were on in this mindless civil war.

“Come over here, Teyla,” Rodney said after a minute, but he crawled over to her and helped her move into the warmth of the sunlight. She smiled gratefully at the blustering scientist as he dug through their meager supplies.

“We need to change your bandage. That one’s all dirty.”

“We do not have the supplies to do so, Rodney. What if you or Ronon get hurt?”

McKay glanced up at Ronon and noticed the big man had ducked away from the doorway to look back at them. He didn’t say anything, just stared intently at McKay, but Rodney had grown used to the man’s looks and expressions over the last five days. If McKay didn’t change Teyla’s bandage, he would.

Rodney reached over and gently peeled the dirty bandage off her forehead, ignoring her. She was apparently too tired to protest any further. She closed her eyes, allowing McKay to tend to her. The cut was high on her forehead, right at the hairline. She’d been hit with falling debris and knocked unconscious soon after the bombardment of the town had begun. Rodney was sure she had a concussion, but since there wasn’t anything any of them could do, for once, he kept it to himself.

He cleaned the cut as best he could, jerking his hand back and mumbling an apology when Teyla hissed in pain. A few minutes later, she had a new, clean bandage taped to her forehead.

“Thank you, Rodney.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I am sure Colonel Sheppard will find us soon.”

McKay snorted. “I guess that depends on your definition of soon.”

“Something must have happened,” Ronon piped up from his position at the door. Teyla and McKay looked at him. McKay swallowed, feeling the familiar surge of panic but forcing himself not to give in to it.

“I saw the gate activate, Ronon,” Teyla said.

“Then we saw the entire area completely bombarded,” Rodney replied. Hearing the slight squeak of dread in his voice, he made a point to clear his throat before continuing—not that that would fool Ronon or even a concussed Teyla. “We don’t even know if he made it through the gate before the bombs hit. In fact, we don’t even know if the stargate is still standing.”

Ronon suddenly tensed, then ducked away from the doorway. He crawled quickly to where Teyla and Rodney sat, bringing a finger to his lips. “Patrol,” he whispered. The three of them scooted over to the wall, out of sight of anyone who might look through the broken out window into the seemingly abandoned wreck of a building. They waited in silence, hardly daring breathe.

“Are they gone?” Rodney whispered after a few minutes.

“Yeah. I don’t think they came down this street.”

“Now what?”

“What do you mean, McKay?”

“I mean, are we going to keep moving from building to building until someone finally catches us and kills us, or better yet, until one of these buildings finally collapses on top of us all? Personally, I’m hoping for a direct hit with one of those rocket things, right here,” Rodney said, thumping his chest.

“McKay, shut up.”

Rodney had been expecting either Ronon or Teyla to yell at him, but Ronon spoke so softly that it caught the scientist off guard, effectively shutting down the man’s rant. Rodney opened his mouth a few times but couldn’t seem to come up with any kind of response. He slumped back against the wall, dejected.

Ronon suddenly turned and grabbed McKay by the shirt, yanking him forward until their faces were only inches apart. Rodney swallowed, his mouth going dry at the look of intensity in Ronon’s eyes.

“Sheppard will come for us. He doesn’t leave his people behind.”

“But, when—”

“No. He does not leave people behind.” Ronon let got of McKay’s shirt and the scientist fell backward and almost toppled into Teyla’s lap. He watched Ronon stand up and stretch his long legs.

“I’m going to scout the street, then I think we should head out. We need to make our way back to the gate. That’s where the rescue will come from,” Ronon stated. “Stay here, and stay quiet.” Without waiting for a response, he ducked out of the building and disappeared down the street.

“He is right, Rodney,” Teyla said tiredly.

“At the rate we can safely move, it’s going to take us over day to get back to the stargate,” Rodney said, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.

“We must not give up on John. John would not give up on us.”

Rodney nodded numbly, not daring to voice the thoughts that had plagued him over the last five days. As distant explosions began to sound, he couldn’t help but wonder if John Sheppard had indeed made it back to Atlantis or if they were pinning all their hopes on a ghost.

* * *

John came awake so suddenly that he managed to sit halfway up before realizing he was back in Atlantis in the infirmary. He immediately flopped back down on the bed and groaned at the sharp stabbing pain in his head. He felt hot, and after bringing a hand up to his face, he grimaced at the sweat covering his face. Lingering images of his most recent nightmare flittered through his mind, and he squeezed his eyes against them. He let his hand fall back to the bed.

“Are you alright, son?”

Beckett’s voice was soft and full of concern, but it nevertheless startled John. He gasped and jerked his head to where Beckett had been sitting quietly, then instantly regretted the movement as he was gripped by dizziness. He felt Beckett’s hand on his shoulder and thought maybe the man was talking to him, but he couldn’t be sure. There was a loud rushing sound in his ears, and he could feel his stomach churning.

“Mmm..ss’ckk..” he mumbled, hoping Carson heard him. Within a few seconds he felt something cold and hard shoved into his hands. He gripped it for all he was worth, trying to breathe deeply. If his head wasn’t happy with him waking up, it definitely would be happy with him throwing up.

After a few more deep breaths, his stomach began to settle. The dizziness receded enough for him to realize he was sitting up with his arms wrapped around a basin. He also realized Carson was holding onto his arm with one hand and rubbing his back with the other. John felt vaguely humiliated at being treated like a five year old with the flu, but he also felt rotten enough that the small gesture of comfort was just that—comforting.

“…take it slow, lad.”

John realized Carson had been talking to him the whole time. He slowly released his death grip on the basin and tried to ease back onto the bed. Beckett must have noticed his movements because the doctor was suddenly cradling the back of his head and helping him ease backward. John sighed as he relaxed into the bed, noticing how much energy that had taken out of him. He handed the basin to Beckett, who quickly set it aside.

“Thanks. I’m okay.”

“You’re still looking a little pale. Can I get you something for the pain or nausea?”

“No, not right now.”

Carson nodded and sat back down in the chair next to John’s bed. John blinked at him a few times, wondering if he was supposed to say something else. After a few minutes, Beckett finally broke the silence.

“That was a hell of a nightmare,” he said.

John closed his eyes, swallowing as his mouth suddenly went dry. He could almost hear the explosions from his dream as the seemingly peaceful little town he stepped into had been decimated to nothing. Carson seemed to be waiting for a response from John, but John pushed the nightmarish images of flames, explosions, and death out of his mind.

“If you’re here to talk me into getting the surgery, it won’t work. So don’t even bother,” John said instead. He watched Carson sigh and lean back in his chair. The doctor stared down at his lap, rubbing his hands together absently.

“John, that decision was yours. It still is. I’m not going to make you do something you don’t want to do.” Carson looked up suddenly, pinning John with a look of compassion.

John nodded. He trusted Carson as much as he had trusted his team. He thought of his team suddenly, the memory of their faces floating through the back of his mind. He felt a sudden heaviness in his chest at their loss and took a deep, shaky breath. He moved his hand up to run it through his hair, but dropped it again when he remembered the bandage wrapped around his head. He rolled his head slowly on the pillow to look over at Beckett. The doctor was watching him closely.

“You look tired,” John said.

Beckett chuckled at the unexpected observation. “I am, lad. I am, but I’ll be fine. I don’t want to keep you up, but you’ve been asleep a lot lately and I wanted to catch you while you were awake.”

“Why?” John asked, unable to keep out all of the wariness that suddenly crept into his voice.

“Don’t go panicking on me, son. I just wanted to tell you that I’m here if you need me. Not just if you’re sick or hurting, but if you’re having a hard time…you know…with Rodney, Ronon, and Teyla…” Beckett stumbled along, his normal, confident bedside manner disappearing. “What I’m trying to say is,” he started again a moment later, “you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to live with these nightmares and the memory of their deaths by yourself. If it’s ever too much, or you just need to talk, or anything, lad, I’ll be here for you. I’d do anything to help you. You know that, right?”

John blinked, trying to take in Carson’s rapid, almost McKay-esque ramble but understanding the gist of it. He bit his lip, desperately trying to get a grip on the emotions flooding through him. He felt as if he’d been an uncontrollable emotional wreck over the last few days, and knowing that it was mostly caused by his head injury didn’t help.

“It was a civil war,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“When I dream, I get snippets of memory…stuff I remember actually happened. Some parts are still a little foggy, but I remember most of what happened now.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Everything seemed fine when we first arrived, but there’d been some stuff going on—political stuff—that we didn’t know about. Our arrival was enough of a distraction to set the two strongest sides off,” Sheppard explained. He rubbed his face tiredly, feeling a deep, achy exhaustion that he couldn’t seem to shake. “The whole place dissolved into a civil war within hours of our arrival.”

Beckett nodded his head, but didn’t say anything, giving John the opportunity to continue or stop.

John suddenly found it easier to get it all out of his system at once. “We’d eaten and retired to the rooms they’d set up for us when we heard the first bombs go off,” he said. “We ran out into the street to see what was going on and people were rushing up and down in mass panic. There was an explosion and Teyla was hit in the head by some of the debris and knocked to the ground. Everyone around us began to panic. Teyla would have been trampled if Ronon hadn’t jumped into the crowd and grabbed her.”

John’s hands had begun to shake but he forced himself to concentrate. He stared at a small thread in his blanket and began to pick at it. Carson sat still next to him, but John couldn’t bring himself to look up at the doctor.

“Teyla…she knocked her head pretty good—I think she was unconscious for a few minutes—and she had a pretty nasty cut on her forehead. We were going to go back into our building, but it was hit by some kind of rocket or missile—whatever it was they were using. I could hear the whine of the thing over the noise of the crowd but didn’t realize what the sound was until the building burst into flames in front of us.

“We started running with the crowd, trying to find a safe place to hole up in until the bombing stopped and we could make it safely back to the gate. There was mass hysteria in the streets and we just kind of had to move with the crowd. We ended up moving away from the stargate that first night. As people began to thin out, we found a place to duck into. Ronon’s and Rodney’s radios were destroyed when our building was bombed, and Teyla lost her radio when she was knocked to the ground. I had my radio, and by some miracle, Rodney had a GDO.”

John closed his eyes, suddenly remembering Teyla’s bloodied and stoic face as she’d allowed him to bandage the gash on her forehead. She had to have had a horrendous headache, but as usual, she hadn’t complained. He must have laid there for longer than he thought because he suddenly felt Beckett’s hand on his arm.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking up into the concerned face of his friend.

“That’s alright, son. You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m okay,” John answered. “You need to know what happened.”

Carson nodded and settle back down in his chair. John began picking at his blanket again, caught up in his memories.

“We started hiding in buildings that had been hit by those rocket things. After a few hours, we saw fewer and fewer people. The few people we did run into told us the armies had reached the town and were fighting each other in the streets. At that point, we tried to stay out of sight. I don’t remember if we saw any soldiers…we ended up in this building that had already been bombed at least once.” John took a deep breath, steeling himself for the moment he was about to relive. Carson must have sensed what was coming; John noticed the doctor had tensed up as well.

“I can’t remember exactly what happened next,” he whispered. “I was in the street or something. I wasn’t with my team. I heard that whining sound again and knew it was a missile. I turned around just in time to see it hit the building that Ronon, Teyla, and Rodney were all in…”

John swallowed, the nightmarish image flashing through his mind again. He felt a tear slide down his face and quickly brushed it away, hoping that Carson hadn’t noticed it but not daring to actually look at the doctor.

“I think I tried to yell or something—to warn them—but I don’t know. The building just exploded and crumbled, and they were gone.” John’s hands were shaking badly again and he wrapped his arms around himself as if he could physically hold onto his self-control. “That’s what I see in my nightmares every time. I see that building; I see their faces through one of the broken out windows; and then they’re just…gone.”

John squeezed his eyes shut, but he could feel his body shuddering at the memories he was forced to relive every time he fell asleep.

“What happened next?” Carson asked. John opened his eyes and saw the doctor looked as pale and shaken as John felt.

“I’m not sure,” he answered quietly, looking up at the ceiling. “I made it back here, obviously, but I can’t remember how or…” His voice trailed off and the two sat in silence for a long time. John wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he looked over at Carson as the doctor stood up from his chair.

“Thank you for telling me that,” Carson said. John just nodded. He’d almost forgotten the pain in his head as he’d talked, but now that the story was over, his headache had come back with a vengeance. He felt shaky all over and noticed the first hints of nausea coming back.

He felt a movement on his arm and realized Carson was injecting something into his IV. John pinched the bridge of his nose trying not to groan and wondering if he’d ever feel normal again. The doctor had obviously noticed the strain and distress he was under, and a few seconds later, John felt something cool rushing into his veins. The pain in his head ebbed slightly, and his arms and legs suddenly felt heavy.

“I’ve given you something for the pain,” Beckett explained, resting a hand on Sheppard’s shoulder. “Get some rest, son. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

John opened his mouth to say something, but the pain medication was working quickly. He felt his eyes drooping closed and finally gave up the fight to stay awake. He drifted off to sleep, and for the first time since returning to Atlantis, did not dream.  


* * *

An explosion at the end of the street blew debris out in a cloud of dust and took McKay, Teyla, and even Ronon by surprise. They ducked down instinctively, pausing in their careful trek to new shelter. Ronon was the first to begin moving again and he began walking without a sound. Teyla followed him, but turned when she realized McKay hadn’t followed them yet.

“Rodney, are you alright?” She asked, careful to keep her voice low. There didn’t appear to be anyone else on the street, but a military patrol could easily appear around a corner. Rodney stood still, staring at the buildings across the street.

“Rodney?” Teyla stepped closer to him, reaching for his arm.

“What?” He asked, still distracted.

“We must keep moving.”

He seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts and nodded his head, taking a step forward. “Right, sorry.”

Teyla smiled gently, and the three began moving carefully down the street. Teyla walked next to Rodney occasionally grabbing onto his shoulder to keep from tripping. Her headache had toned down a little, going from a sharp, throbbing pain over her eye to more of a dull, background ache. She wasn’t nauseous or dizzy anymore, but she could tell her reflexes were slow. She watched Ronon moving ahead of them, picking his way through the debris littered streets without making a sound, seemingly unfazed by the relentless pace they’d kept up for the last five days. She knew now how he’d survived the Wraith all those years.

“Those buildings make me nervous,” McKay suddenly whispered.

Teyla glanced up at the building across the street. Most of them had been hit by explosives; all were abandoned. They looked precarious and ready to give in to the pull of gravity.

She felt a chill run down her spine. They had seen that happen before. Buildings so damaged they couldn’t hold themselves up anymore. They would crumble suddenly, the sound of the walls and support beams hitting the ground almost as loud as the sound of the bombs going off.

It was one building in particular, though, that she knew Rodney was thinking of. It had happened the first morning after the bombs began to rain down on the city, back when John had still been with them. They’d made their way to the city center and sheltered in a building on the edge of the large square that held, among its excessive amount of monuments and statues, the stargate. The city center had been devastated, taking the brunt of the early bombings. About half of the large monuments had still been standing, but many had been destroyed, and deep craters in the ground gave evidence of how many missiles and rockets had been launched in the initial attack.

They’d been nervous about sheltering in the building, but Teyla had been having a hard time staying on her feet, and Sheppard had ordered them all to stop. They’d rested for a few minutes when John had decided to scout ahead and make sure the way was clear. They’d been hearing horror stories from the handful of civilians they’d run into about the brutality of the military patrols roaming the streets looking for a fight.

John had barely walked across the street, ducking behind a pile of bricks and wood beams, when the first sounds of distant explosions could be heard. The early morning hours had settled into a deathly silence and they’d hoped that meant the missile launching was over, but they’d been wrong. The sound had filled Teyla, disoriented as she was, with dread. She had stood up with Ronon and Rodney, peering out of the broken out window and looking to the sky.

She had looked down at the sound of John’s voice and had seen him yelling and waving his arms. He had been running toward them when the deafening sound of a bomb going off had sounded right above her head.

She shivered again at the memory and noticed Rodney watching her. She smiled, trying to reassure him.

“The sun has gone down. It is growing cold again,” she said. Rodney nodded. They both breathed a sigh of relief when Ronon disappeared into a building, then quickly reappeared and signaled it was safe. They were all tired and dirty, and the afternoon had been long and grueling. As they approached the center of the city, sightings of the military patrols had grown more frequent and they’d had to move carefully. The sound of nearby skirmishing had gripped her heart with fear, but Ronon had maintained a steady pace and kept them out of harm’s way.

“We should take a break,” Ronon said. Teyla nodded numbly, knowing the break was for her and Rodney and not himself. When John had left, Ronon had taken it upon himself to keep them safe until the rescue arrived. Rodney had gladly stepped aside, stating that war was not his area of expertise. Even if Teyla had not been injured, she still would have followed Ronon’s lead. Ronon was, after all, military—a trained soldier. Rodney had been right. Ronon was their best chance of staying alive until help from Atlantis arrived.

They crowded into a corner of the abandoned building, carefully out of sight of anyone peeking through the door. They leaned against each other for warmth, and Teyla allowed herself to rest her head on Rodney’s shoulder. She closed her eyes against the dull throbbing of her head and tried not to think of what had happened to John.

* * *

Elizabeth walked across the infirmary, heading directly for John’s room in the back. Carson had told her about his discussion with John of the day before. She’d managed to stay in control as Beckett had relayed the story, but she’d allowed herself to break down that night in the privacy of her own room. The grief of losing Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon had still been there in the morning, but it had been bearable enough for her to face the rest of the city.

She’d lost three friends this week already. She wasn’t about to lose another one. She paused outside of John’s room bracing herself. As she stepped into the room, she noticed the curtains had been drawn and the early morning sunlight was streaming through the window. She thought at first that John was still asleep, but as she approached his side, she saw that his eyes were open. His head was turned and he was staring out the window.

She tapped her foot on the floor quietly to let him know she was in the room. She saw him flinch slightly, but he continued to stare out the window.

“Good morning, John,” she said. She waited a minute, but John didn’t move. She grabbed the chair next to his bed and scooted it up, trying to bring herself into John’s line of sight. John blinked a few times then finally met Elizabeth’s gaze.

“Good morning,” she said again, smiling. She noticed he looked worst today than he had yesterday. He smiled back at her, but it didn’t last for more than a few seconds. She took his hand in both of hers and she felt a slight pressure as he weakly squeezed her hand.

Elizabeth suddenly found herself at a lost for words, so she just sat next to him in silence. She’d asked one of the nurses how John was when she’d first arrived at the infirmary and felt her heart double time at the sudden gravity on the woman’s face. John had slept peacefully throughout the afternoon after talking to Carson. He’d woken up feeling a little better, and had even managed to eat almost a full cup of soup that evening. The nurse had explained that John had fallen asleep again shortly after that, and everyone had settled in for the night. In a matter of hours, though, John had woken up from a nightmare feverish and nauseated. He’d immediately begun throwing up, which made the nausea worse, which made him throw up even more.

The cycle had continued throughout the night. John would gag and retch endlessly until he finally passed out, only to wake up again an hour later and repeat the process. The medical staff had finally been able to get him settled in the early morning hours, and he’d slept restlessly until then.

He was awake now, but his rough night showed. He was lethargic and weak, hardly able to squeeze Elizabeth’s hand. His eyes were sunken and his face was slick with sweat. She could feel him trembling under her hands and wondered if he was cold, but the nurse had said he still had a fever. She watch his eyes drift close and his breathing even out. She’d intended to argue him into agreeing to the surgery, but she couldn’t seem to get any words out now.

John shifted slightly and she watched him wake up. He’d been asleep for fifteen minutes at the most. Whatever energy he’d had to talk to Carson yesterday was gone. She rested her hand on his face, brushing away the beads of sweat on his cheek with her thumb. He turned his face into her hand and closed his eyes again for a few seconds. She thought he’d fallen asleep again and was startled at the sound of his quiet voice.

“Water.” His voice was rough and scratchy.

“Yeah, hold on.” Elizabeth reached for the cup of water on the stand next to his bed. She held his head up for him and brought the straw to his lips. “Not too much,” she cautioned.

John swallowed a few sips before turning away. Elizabeth gently laid his head back onto the pillow and returned the cup to the stand. John opened his mouth again as if to talk to her but whatever he was about to say was lost in a dry cough. He closed his eyes tightly, swallowing what little moisture he could. His body shook with the effort. When the coughing had subsided, he relaxed and turned his head back toward the open window. Elizabeth wondered if she should leave, but she felt his hand brush hers as he feebly reached for her.

A little while later, Elizabeth left the room. John had finally fallen deep asleep, and she hoped it would last at least a few hours. As she came around the corner, she ran into Carson.

“Oh! Sorry, Carson.”

“You’re fine, love. How’s John?”

“Sleeping, finally.”

“Good. He had a rough night, again.”

“That’s what I heard,” Elizabeth sighed. She noticed Carson’s troubled look. “What’s wrong?”

Carson rubbed his eyes, and Elizabeth again felt her heart beginning to pound.

“We did another scan early this morning. I don’t know if this was a result of last night or what, but he’s getting worse.”

“What do you mean he’s getting worse?”

“I mean we can’t not do the surgery. Doctor Amadine has just confirmed it. If we don’t do the surgery—and soon—John will die.”

“Carson, John has absolutely refused the surgery.”

“I know, Elizabeth, but things have changed. We have to do the surgery now, or he won’t live long enough to even board the Daedalus.”

Elizabeth swallowed, fighting for control over her emotions. “He’s so weak, Carson,” she whispered.

“Aye, I know. I wish we could wait until he’s a little bit stronger, but we don’t have a choice anymore.”

Elizabeth nodded grimly. “When?” She asked.

“We’re planning on it doing first thing tomorrow morning. Doctor Amadine is preparing everything as we speak. I was going in to talk to him right now, but if he’s asleep, I’ll let him be for now. Lord knows he needs as much rest as he can get.”

They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating their friend’s life. Elizabeth finally shook herself out of her thoughts, rubbing her arms. “I’ve to get back to work. Call if you need anything, or anything changes.”

“Of course.” Carson gave her a quick, unexpected hug then walked back toward his office. Elizabeth rushed out of the infirmary, barely making it to the privacy of her own room before bursting into tears.

* * *

CHAPTER 6

  


Rodney McKay dropped like a rock face first into the dirt. He wrapped his hands around his head and tried not to listen to the ominous creaking of the ceiling above him. Teyla was next to him, crouching down but ready to move the instant an unknown soldier stumbled into their hiding place.

  


“I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die…” Rodney mumbled under his breath. He didn’t realize he was speaking out loud until Teyla laid a hand on his back.

  


“Hush, Rodney,” she whispered.

  


The sound of gunfire could be heard in the street outside of the small shed they’d taken shelter in sometime in the early hours of the morning. Feet pounded past the door back and forth as two opposing patrols clashed. So far, no one had glanced into the shed and realized Teyla and Rodney were in there.

  


More gunshots sounded, then more pounding of feet. Rodney heard yelling but it was further down the street and growing more and more faint. Silence at last descended, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  


Only to inhale a mouthful of dirt and dust. He covered his mouth with both hands to stay quiet. Teyla was suddenly lifting him up and helping him sit against the back wall of the shed. It was darkest there and offered their best chance of staying hidden if someone were to peak in. He leaned his head back, his chest jerking as he tried to keep the coughs in. Teyla brought her water bottle up to his lips, and after a few sips he managed to douse the fire in his throat and lungs.

  


“Thanks,” he rasped. 

  


She nodded her head. “I am going to check the street, make sure it is truly empty.”

  


“Careful,” Rodney whispered. He reached a hand out to her but dropped it quickly, not sure if he was trying to push her forward or pull her back. He watched as she crawled forward and peered out the doorway. The street beyond remained quiet.

  


“I believe the fight has moved on,” she said, moving back to where Rodney still sat. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Rodney nudged her with the water bottle and she took it from him gratefully, allowing herself a few sips before putting it away.

  


“Do you think Ronon got caught up in the fight?”

  


“I do not know. We must trust him, though. He will return soon.”

  


Rodney stared ahead, not sure how to respond. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ronon—hell, if anyone could survive in the middle of a war zone, it was Ronon—but he’d believed the same thing about Sheppard, too. He brought his knees up and tapped his feet and fingers against the ground, willing himself not to think of Sheppard. With every passing day, he’d grown a little more uncertain that his team leader had made it safely back to Atlantis.

  


A sudden scraping noise at the door caused both he and Teyla to freeze. They waited tensely, Teyla grabbing a metal bar on the ground in case they needed a weapon. It only took a few seconds, but it felt like hours before Ronon’s dread-locked hair appeared. Rodney took a deep breath and sagged against the wall. He watched Teyla stand up to greet him.

  


In the dark light of the shed, it took a moment for Rodney to realize that Ronon was moving awkwardly. He crawled over to the runner as the big man lowered himself to the ground with a grunt of pain.

  


“What happened?” Rodney asked, his eyes wide with panic.

  


“I’m fine,” Ronon growled. He threw a bag at Rodney. “Found a loaf of bread and some more of those fruit things. There’s not much, though.”

  


“You are injured, Ronon,” Teyla said, squatting next to him. She pressed against his leg and Rodney heard him trying to stifle another grunt. “Do we have anymore bandages?” She asked the scientist.

  


Rodney nodded, dropping the bag of food to dig through his vest pockets. He had one clean bandage left and he tossed it to Teyla. He then grabbed Teyla’s water bottle and handed the last of their water to the injured man. Ronon nodded and drank the last few sips slowly, savoring it, as Teyla dressed the gash in his leg.

  


“How were you injured?” She asked.

  


“Caught the edge of that little gun battle,” he answered, pointing toward the street.

  


“Did they see you?” Rodney asked.

  


“No, don’t think so. A stray bullet ricocheted off the wall near where I was hiding and grazed my leg.”

  


“This is bleeding badly, Ronon. We should try to find more bandages.”

  


Rodney looked at Teyla’s own dirty bandage on her forehead. Teyla glanced at him and Rodney turned quickly away. When he looked at her again, she pointed to the bag of food and Rodney began handing out the meager amounts that Ronon had been able to find.

  


“I’ll be fine. We just need to get back to the stargate.”

  


“Right,” Rodney muttered and he bit into his piece of bread. The three sat in silence as they ate. Finally, Ronon spoke.

  


“It’s getting harder to find food. Most of it seems to have either been taken already or destroyed. There are also more soldiers out. It’s going to get harder and harder to move without being seen as we get closer to the stargate.”

  


Rodney took a deep breath when Ronon turned his attention on him. Ronon had put him in charge of their supplies, and Rodney was shocked and a little flattered at the man’s confidence in him.

  


“We have a few packs of aspirin, but otherwise, all of our medical supplies are gone. We’re out of food and water as well, so we’ll have to keep watching for that. We also have at least one knife—I’m assuming the ones in your hair are still there—a blaster, and…oh, Teyla found a metal bar that I assume could be used as some sort of club, you know, if worse came to worse.” Rodney gave his report matter-of-factly. It had become a ritual every time they prepared to move out into the open again. Rodney had rolled his eyes the first few times Ronon had made him do it, but he found a certain comfort in it now. In some small way, it felt like it gave him some control over the situation, which was probably Ronon’s goal.

  


“Teyla, are you ready?” Ronon asked, eyeing the bandage on her forehead.

  


“I am more ready than you at the moment,” she retorted, smiling slightly, and Rodney found some comfort in her response. She sounded stronger and much more like herself. Maybe they could get off this hell hole of a war-torn planet.

  


“Let’s go,” Ronon said. He climbed to his feet and limped out the door into the early morning sunlight, Teyla and Rodney close behind him.

  


* * *

  


It was amazing how much clarity could come to one’s mind after a few minutes on a balcony warmed by a late afternoon sun, the smell of the ocean riding in on a cool breeze. John heard the doors behind him open, but he kept his face turned out toward the ocean. He wasn’t ready to go back inside, no matter what the nurses or Carson said. Whoever had stepped out onto the balcony gasped, and John would have smiled if he’d had the energy.

  


“John, what are you doing out here?”

  


At the sound of Elizabeth’s voice, John opened his eyes and turned his head slightly toward her. He hadn’t expected Elizabeth. As she moved closer to him, he turned his face back toward the ocean, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

  


“Hey,” he greeted quietly. He half wondered if she would scold him for getting out of the wheelchair, but she said nothing. She stood next to him and stared out at the sun reflecting off the water. John had this nagging feeling that he owed her something—an apology or an explanation—but for what, he couldn’t quite explain. He knew Elizabeth just wanted him to recover and get better, but she’d been there over the last few days in his darkest moments. He’d felt crappy, angry, grief-stricken, and scared—he still did—and he’d said things that he now regretted. He hoped she understood he hadn’t meant what he had said about dying or never getting back to normal, and he wanted to tell her as much.

  


“I just needed some fresh air,” he said instead.

  


“What?”

  


“You asked what I was doing out here. I just needed to get outside for a minute.”

  


“I’m sure standing by the balcony railing was exactly what Carson had in mind,” she replied. Her tone was serious, but he could hear the smile behind the words.

  


He smiled back, knowing that that was exactly what Carson did not want him doing. He was still suffering from bouts of severe dizziness, and he’d had to beg the good doctor to let him come out to the balcony for a few minutes, then had to beg the nurse who’d wheeled him out to give him a few minutes alone. No one had said anything about staying in the wheelchair, probably because they didn’t believe he had the strength to stand.

  


“Sorry,” he said after a few minutes.

  


“Sorry? For what?”

  


If he could have brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck without falling, he would have, but instead he shrugged his shoulders, keeping a tight grip on the railing. Sorry for being angry, sorry for feeling like he’d been out of control over the last few days, sorry for letting people down, for letting his team down. He grimaced at the thought of his team and forced the memory of their deaths from his mind. 

  


He’d slept most of the day, vaguely recalling nurses doing their usual checks and Carson talking to him about surgery. The memories and dreams of his team’s deaths were never far from the surface, as was the guilt that he’d left them behind—no matter how unfounded everyone told him it was. He also remembered that at some point, Elizabeth had been there sitting with him. He didn’t remember her saying anything, just remembered that she’d been there for him when he’d needed a friend.

  


Elizabeth seemed to be waiting for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she dropped it. John wondered if she thought he was crazy—angry and yelling one minute, crying and despondent the next. One minute he was giving up and telling her he didn’t want the surgery that could give him his life back, the next he was apologizing for who knows what. And then he was waking up screaming about his dead teammates almost every time he drifted off to sleep.

  


“Did Carson talk to you about the surgery?” Elizabeth finally asked.

  


John took a deep breath and finally looked at her. He noticed she looked as tired as Carson did, and he knew he was responsible for that. Between his injury and the loss of his team, none of them had gotten much sleep. He felt another lance of grief shoot through his chest at the thought of his team. He inhaled sharply, trying to push their memory to the back of his mind.

  


“Yeah, we talked,” he answered.

  


“I know you said you didn’t want the surgery. I hope you don’t think Carson’s going behind your back in anyway, but he has to do this—”

  


“Elizabeth,” John interrupted. “It’s okay. I understand.”

  


He saw Elizabeth nodding her head and turned back toward the ocean. He knew part of his clarity was from the deep, dreamless sleep he’d gotten most of the day. He’d woken up in the afternoon gently, not quite rested but feeling better than he had in a while.

  


“I want the surgery,” he said a minute later. “I would do the surgery even if Carson wasn’t telling me I had to.”

  


“Thank you, John.” He felt her hand on his elbow, and he blinked rapidly at the emotion in her voice. 

  


“Don’t thank me yet,” he said.

  


“Why?”

  


“I’m still going back to Earth, even with the surgery.”

  


“What? Why?” Elizabeth gasped. John continued to stare out across the ocean. It was hard enough saying this out loud, but he couldn’t bear to look at anyone at the same time.

  


“It’s just…It’s too hard right now. There isn’t any part of Atlantis that doesn’t remind me of Ronon or Teyla or Rodney, and I just can’t deal with that right now. Maybe, in a few months…” John stumbled through his explanation, hoping Elizabeth was at least getting the gist of what he was saying. Teyla would have understood. _Teyla._ The image of her face framed by the broken, burning window flashed through his mind and he grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

  


The world tilted all of a sudden, and he closed his eyes at the sudden sensation that someone had pulled the ground out from under his feet. His grip on the railing tightened to the point that his knuckles were white. He leaned forward, groaning.

  


“John?” He could distantly hear Elizabeth’s voice and her hands on his arm and waist. “John?”

  


He tried to focus on her steadying grasp. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he gasped for air. He knew the sensation would pass in a minute, but he wondered if he would be able to remain standing for that long. 

  


He felt the hands on his arm and waist guiding him backward, and he followed Elizabeth’s lead, not daring to open his eyes as his world continued to whirl around him. She helped him back into the wheelchair, and as soon as he was sitting he leaned forward with his head in his hands, taking deep breaths to get himself back under control.

  


“I’m going to get Carson,” Elizabeth said. John realized she’d probably been talking to him the whole time. The dizziness was starting to subside a little, so he grabbed her arm as she turned to go back into the infirmary.

  


“No,” he choked out. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  


Elizabeth kneeled down next to him, her hand on his back. He was sure he looked horrible—pale, sweaty, and shaking—but he knew Carson couldn’t do anything for him until the surgery. He kept a grip on Elizabeth’s arm, her presence grounding him as his world slowly righted itself.

  


“I see them, Elizabeth,” he suddenly blurted out, “In my mind, I see Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney dying over and over again.” The pain of their loss shot through him, and he was unable to contain his grief any longer. He felt her grip tighten on his arm, and he glanced at her face to see her own tears barely kept in check. His eyes began to sting, and he buried his head deeper into his hands.

  


“It wasn’t your fault, John.”

  


John nodded, not daring to look up yet. He still couldn’t bring himself to believe that and doubted he ever would. After a few minutes, he leaned back in the wheelchair. His control was back in place, but it had cost him. He had a pounding headache and his body felt drained. Any energy he’d had, he used up by standing on the balcony; now it was all he could do just to remain sitting up. He rubbed his eyes and noticed his hands were shaking. His head had grown heavy as well and kept falling forward toward his chest. 

  


He was barely aware of Elizabeth wheeling him back to his room, and of the medical personnel getting him back into his bed. Carson was there at some point as well. John heard the doctor’s soft, reassuring brogue, but he couldn’t quite focus on the words. And then Elizabeth was there, leaning over him. He looked up at her and saw the fear behind her caring smile. He could feel his eyes drooping closed, but he forced them open.

  


“I’m okay,” he whispered, too tired to talk louder. “I’m going to be okay.” Some of the fear left Elizabeth’s face, and her smile seemed a little brighter. He smiled back, or at least tried to, but sleep quickly pulled him under for the night.

  


* * *

  


“Wow,” McKay whispered. “Are we sure this is the town square?”

  


Ronon just grunted in response. The sun was beginning to set, but it was still light enough to see how completely devastated the area was. It was almost unrecognizable. Ronon shook his head, disgusted at what people could do to each other. He wondered how long the Wraith would last if they could harness all that hatred and direct it just at the life-sucking monsters. Teyla squatted next to him, looking out over the piles of ruins. She was just as shocked as he was.

  


“We should find shelter. There were a lot of patrols out this afternoon,” Ronon whispered to his two teammates. They both nodded their heads, then followed him as he began creeping through whatever pathway he could find through the wreckage. His leg throbbed, but he’d had worse injuries when he’d been a runner, and he knew he could keep going as long as he had to. The air was still and strangely silent. He continued to crawl along, straining to hear the sound of an approaching patrol, but for the first time in hours, they seemed to be alone.

  


Ronon approached one corner of the town square. A building ahead of them had almost completely collapsed, but one wall was still standing and supporting debris in such a way that a small enclave had been created. It would at least provide a roof over their heads, and a dark place to duck into should anyone walk past. There was even the remains of a broken-out window. He stopped behind a pile of debris in front of their new hiding place and pointed so that Teyla and McKay could see where they were heading. Teyla nodded in approval, but McKay’s face suddenly blanched.

  


“Oh, no way. I am not going back in there,” he whispered fiercely.

  


  
 _Back?_ Ronon frowned and looked back at the building. He suddenly recognized where they were. He’d led the team back to the exact same spot Sheppard had led them six days ago. This was the building they’d taken shelter in. When it had collapsed, it had almost killed him, Teyla, and McKay. No wonder McKay was freaking out.

  


“Unless you want to sleep under the stars, McKay, this is all we’ve got,” he responded.

  


“Maybe I do want to sleep under the stars.”

  


Ronon was about to respond back to him but Teyla interrupted. “We cannot risk being discovered by a patrol now, Rodney. We are too close to getting home.” She sounded tired, and Ronon caught her rubbing the side of her head.

  


“That’s the same building. That’s the one that collapsed on us before. I am not going back in there to let it finish the job.” McKay leaned stubbornly against the pile of debris with his arms folded.

  


“That was almost a week ago. If the building was going to fall, it would have by now.”

  


McKay glared at Ronon, but Ronon turned away from him. He knew that wasn’t the best argument in the world, and McKay looked ready to fight him on it, but they really didn’t have a choice. There were no other buildings still standing that would offer that same level of protection. Their choice was stay there, or move away from the town center to a less devastated area, but they were so close to the stargate now. Ronon was not willing to consider any other options.

  


“Let’s go,” he said. He looked up and down as much of the street and town square that he could see to make sure no patrols were in sight, then limped toward the half-collapsed building. He heard scuffling behind him, and Teyla and McKay caught up with him just as he ducked into the opening of their enclave.

  


“This place gives me the creeps,” McKay said after a few minutes. Ronon just nodded and stretched his leg out. It was aching more than he cared to admit, and he was glad for the chance to finally rest.

  


Teyla was standing near the broken out window, staring out into the dusk. She had a faraway look on her face, and Ronon was about to ask her what she was thinking when McKay beat him to it. The scientist stood up next to her.

  


“Do you see anything?” McKay asked nervously.

  


“No,” she answered softly. “I was just…remembering.”

  


Ronon saw McKay nod his head thoughtfully. The scientist suddenly pointed to something out the window, and Ronon climbed to his feet to see what they were looking at.

  


“That pile of rubble there…when the missile hit, Sheppard was thrown into that pile.”

  


“He made it to the stargate.” Ronon’s voice was soft, but intense, and neither Teyla nor Rodney dared contradict him.

  


McKay suddenly leaned forward, inhaling sharply.

  


“What is it, McKay?” Ronon asked.

  


“I think I see…maybe…”

  


“What is it, Rodney?” Teyla prodded. She peered into the street, searching for whatever had caught McKay’s attention.

  


“Just a minute,” McKay answered. Without another thought, the scientist darted out of their hiding place and ran toward the pile of rubble. Teyla gasped, and Ronon began cursing. The tall warrior looked up and down the street hoping no one had noticed the man running recklessly out into the open.

  


They watched McKay as he reached the pile of rubble and fell to his knees. He looked like he was patting the ground, looking for something, and suddenly his face lit up. He held his hand up, but it looked to Ronon like the man was holding up a small black rock.

  


“It’s Sheppard’s radio! I found his radio!”

  


Ronon felt a surge of hope. If they had a radio, the chances of contacting Atlantis had just grown exponentially. Ronon smiled and was about to say something back when he noticed the unmistakable whine of a flying missile.

  


McKay had obviously heard it, too. He looked up into the darkening sky, his eyes darting around wildly trying to find the source of the sound. The sound was even louder now, and Ronon knew it was just a matter of seconds before the missile hit. He waved his arms and yelled at McKay to take cover. He saw the scientist diving behind the pile of rubble before a black streak hit the ground between them, and dust and debris exploded into the air.

  


* * *

  


Rodney McKay lay in ball behind the pile of rubble where he’d found Sheppard’s radio with his arms wrapped tightly around his head. The sound of the explosion had been deafening, and his ears were still ringing. He refused to move, waiting for the sharp, piercing pain that would signal his death.

  


When it didn’t come, he opened his eyes and dared to look around. The dust was settling around him. Another explosion went off, causing him to jerk, but it was much farther away. He sat up slowly, dusting himself off and looking for any gaping, bleeding wounds. He breathed a sigh of relief and sagged back against the pile of rubble when he found none.

  


“McKay!”

  


“Rodney?”

  


Ronon and Teyla’s voices sounded panicked. Rodney sat up, his brief moment of relief evaporating. His teammates had still been in the Building of Death when the missile had hit, and he jumped up to see if the building was still standing. When he saw the building hadn’t collapsed any further, he again felt himself sagging in relief, but his blood ran cold at the large, smoking crater separating him from his teammates.

  


The missile had hit the street in the open space between himself and the building they had taken cover in. He must have just narrowly missed being killed by flying shrapnel. This time, he did sit down against the pile of rubble that had saved his life. He felt himself beginning to shake as his near-miss sank in.

  


“Rodney?” Teyla called to him again.

  


“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he answered back. His voice sounded shaky, and he swallowed in an attempt to get some moisture back in his mouth. He waved his hand at them and realized he still had Sheppard’s radio in a tight grip. Darkness was falling fast now, but he could just make out Teyla’s and Ronon’s faces through the broken out window. He wondered if Sheppard had seen the same thing—the faces of his teammates strangely disconnected in the broken out window of the collapsed building. It was eerie, like looking at a photograph of the almost dead.

  


Another explosion up the street caused him to flinch. He shook his head, trying to get the ringing in his ears to quit. He couldn’t quite shake himself out of his morbid thoughts as he remembered the explosion that had almost killed Sheppard and caused the building to collapse on himself, Ronon, and Teyla. The explosion had been farther away than this one but close enough that it had thrown Sheppard back into the pile of rubble that had just saved McKay’s life. That must have been when Sheppard had lost his radio. Rodney had watched his friend cough and gasp after hitting the rocks, holding onto his chest in pain. They could hear the sounds of a patrol marching toward them, and the three of them had desperately tried to get Sheppard’s attention without making a noise, but the Colonel had lain on the ground writhing in pain and oblivious to all around him.

  


Teyla had finally broken the silence and yelled at him to hide. Rodney had thought they were all dead at that point. The clacking of the patrol’s slow but steady march had changed suddenly as its members had heard the yell and begun running. Sheppard had managed to crawl away and hide under some debris out of sight just as the patrol had arrived.

  


The patrol had lingered for awhile, searching for the source of the yelling they’d heard. They’d been about to search the building when it had begun to shake. Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon had cowered down in a corner as the building had collapsed around them. Rodney had been convinced that he would die in that moment, but the wall they had been scrunched against had remained standing, and against all odds, they’d managed to take cover in the one safe spot in the place.

  


The patrol had been frightened by the sudden collapse of the building and halted its search. It had lingered a little while longer then moved slowly down the street. Teyla had crawled to the doorway to peer out into the street despite Ronon’s attempts to hold her back. McKay had watched her waving her arm and pointing in the direction of the stargate, and listened to the frantic, whispered conversation between her and Sheppard.

  


_“We’ve got to leave now, Tey—”_ Sheppard’s sudden hacking cut off whatever else he had been about to say.

  


_“Colonel?”_

  


_“’m ‘kkay.”_ His voice had been raspy and the words forced, and McKay had thought that he didn’t sound okay.

  


_“Come—wait! Patrol’s coming. Stay there. Get back!”_

  


_“John, you must take cover.”_

  


_“Too late.”_ McKay had barely heard his response. Sheppard had said something else after that, but he couldn’t make it out. The street had suddenly been filled with the sounds of boots hitting concrete as two opposing patrols spotted each other from each end of the street. Gunshots had rung out as they’d opened fire on and echoed between the abandoned buildings.

  


Teyla had jerked back and quickly crawled over to him and Ronon. Rodney had been about to ask what was going on when she had brought a finger to her lips. The gun fire eventually died down, and one of the patrols, presumably the winners of that most recent skirmish had moved back toward them. Rodney had heard the sound of their quiet voices and realized they’d stopped just outside their building. He’d been convinced, again, that a member of the patrol was going to discover them any second, and he had braced himself for another horrible death, but no one had come near the building.

  


The patrol had camped out between them and Sheppard the whole night. Rodney had remained almost motionless the entire night, grimacing as the muscles in his back and legs had tightened and cramped but not daring to make a sound. Explosions near and far had sounded throughout the night. The patrol, unfazed by the danger of their situation, had finally moved away around dawn, and even Ronon had breathed a sigh of relief. They’d carefully crawled out of the building after the last sounds of the patrol had died away. Rodney had looked around for Sheppard, but Teyla finally explained what Sheppard had frantically whispered to her right before the gun fight had broken out. He was going to try to make it back to the stargate to contact Atlantis for help.

  


“He left us?” Rodney had asked, shocked.

  


“He went for help. He did not want to leave, but he couldn’t get back to us without one of the patrols noticing,” Teyla had answered. “I believe I saw the stargate activate. He will return soon.”

  


The sound of footfalls on the cobblestone road jarred Rodney out of his memories. It was dark now, but between the sounds of explosions going off, he could hear people approaching—a military patrol.

  


Rodney crawled backward, moving as quietly as he could away from the patrol and the building where Ronon and Teyla were hiding. Rodney had been angry at Sheppard for leaving them, but now he was doing the same thing. He realized as he ducked behind piles of rubble around blast craters that going back to the stargate was their best chance. It would only be a matter of time before they were finally caught by either an explosion or a patrol.

  


A rocket plowed into a pile of rubble less than twenty feet from him. Rodney dropped to the ground, but not fast enough. He cried out as a jagged piece of rock tore into his arm. He lay on the ground panting and trying not to make any sounds. He could still hear the military patrol, but it seemed to be moving away from him. 

  


It was night now, but the moon was full and the skies clear. He looked down at his arm after a few minutes and could see the blood soaking up the sleeve of his jacket and running down his arm to his fingertips. He swallowed, feeling nauseous at the sight of all that blood. Another explosion went off behind him, not close enough to hurt him, but close enough that he felt the rush of hot air. He crawled forward, biting his lip to keep from crying out and holding his arm close to his chest.

  


As he crawled forward, he looked behind him, hoping to catch a glimpse of Teyla and Ronon, but they were long out of sight. He crawled around another pile of rubble and breathed a sigh of relief. He could see the stargate in the bright moonlight only fifty or so feet ahead. He moved quickly toward it, and grew increasingly dismayed at the amount of debris and rubble around the stargate. It was amazing, actually, that the gate was still standing. It seemed to have taken the brunt of the bombings.

  


When Rodney reached the DHD, his heart dropped into his stomach. The whole face of the dialing device had been completely destroyed. There was no way he’d be able to repair it enough to dial out—not with bombs dropping all around him and psychotic military patrols shooting at anything that moved. He slumped down in front of the DHD in despair.

  
  


He stared out at the war-torn horizon, remembering how clean and pristine the little town had looked when he’d first arrived. He shook his head at the destruction now. Even with the threat of the Wraith hanging over their heads, these people had still found enough hatred to turn on themselves. 

  


An explosion had him rolling to the ground with his arms around his head in protection. He heard the resounding crash as one of the few remaining statues in the square tumbled to the ground. A few rocks hit the ground near him and he flinched. His arm was throbbing. The gash had finally stopped bleeding, but the dry blood was now sticking to his shirt, and every time he moved, it pulled on the skin and set the nerves on fire. 

  


He sat up slowly and opened his eyes, looking at the debris around him. His heart suddenly stuttered as he saw a grenade laying less than three meters from his feet. With a strangled yelp, he scrambled around the DHD and dove for cover, landing painfully on his arm. His eyes watered at the impact, but he managed to not cry out. He lay there, tense, waiting for the inevitable concussive blast of the grenade.

  


But the blast never came.

  


Rodney waited a couple of minutes before slowly sitting up and crawling back toward the DHD and the grenade. He whimpered when he moved and he was feeling nauseous again. He felt something warm dripping down his arm and realized he was bleeding again.

  


“I’m so dead,” he muttered.

  


He peered carefully around the DHD to look at the grenade. It still sat there, motionless. Now that he had a chance to look at it, he realized it was covered in dust. It had probably been sitting there for days. He moved a little closer and saw the pin was still in place.

  


It was Sheppard’s. He recognized it now as standard military issue. Sheppard must have dropped it when he reached the gate. Rodney breathed out a sigh of relief. Sheppard had made it to the stargate—this was absolute proof. He carefully picked up the grenade, then turned to look back toward the stargate. He realized now that the amount of debris, including several large stone columns resting over the gate, would prevent a jumper from coming through. In the bright moonlight, he studied the angle of the largest columns, calculating the weight distribution and where the load-bearing points would be. He looked down at the grenade held tightly in his shaking hand. If he could clear out the beams with one well-placed explosion, the kawoosh of the stargate would clear out anything that fell in front of it, and the path above it would open up for a jumper to come through. Assuming, of course, that his explosion didn’t destroy the stargate completely in the process.

  


Rodney McKay crawled forward, forgetting the unrelenting pain in his arm for a moment as a plan began to form in his mind.

  


* * *

CHAPTER 7

“Good morning, Colonel,” Carson said, slightly shaking John’s shoulder to get the man’s attention. Nurses moved around the bed, preparing to wheel John toward the operating room. Carson watched as John tried to follow everyone’s movements, the trepidation of what was about to happen to him growing.

“John,” Carson said a little more forcefully. He waited until Sheppard looked over at him. “We’re almost ready to take you into surgery. You just relax, and we’ll take care of you.”

“’Kay,” John answered quietly. His voice almost sounded timid—not something anyone was used to hearing from the normally strong, fearless Colonel. Carson patted John’s shoulder, trying to convey some confidence to the man. He imagined the prospect of brain surgery would have even the bravest person a little freaked out.

They began to wheel the bed out the door, and John closed his eyes. Carson could see the colonel was trying to keep it together and not completely panic. He was just barely managing it. Carson leaned forward as they walked toward the operating room.

“You’re in the best of hands, lad.”

John opened his eyes and looked at the doctor. “I know, Carson. Thank you.”

Just before they reached the operating room they stopped the bed, and Carson stepped back to let one more person talk to John.

“Hey, John,” Elizabeth said, smiling. She held onto one of John’s hands and squeezed tightly.

“Hey,” John whispered.

“Be strong, John. Carson and Doctor Amadine will get you through this.”

“Yeah.”

“See you on the flip side.”

John chuckled at that, and some of the fear threatening to surface dissipated. They began rolling the bed again. Elizabeth stepped aside for Carson as the group moved into the operating room. John lifted his head a little to look back at Elizabeth. He gave her a small wave and smiled again. This time, Carson noted, the smile seemed a little more genuine. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the surgery he was about to undertake.

* * *

Rodney McKay took a deep breath. Then another deep breath. He had to throw the grenade. His aim had to be perfect in order to clear out the columns lying over the stargate. He also had to dive for cover so he wasn’t killed in the ensuing blast. And he had to hope and pray his plan didn’t destroy the stargate completely.

He took another deep breath. He could do this. Rockets had fallen on the town square sporadically through the night, none getting close to the stargate, but it was enough to set his nerves on overdrive. If he did survive this, it would take months to get over the nightmares.

When. When he survived this. He took a deep breath again and looked down at the grenade in his hand. Now or never. He pulled the pin and tossed the grenade, diving for cover without waiting to see if his aim was accurate or not. He curled up into a ball as he hit the ground and tried to protect his head and injured arm as rocks and debris rained down on him from the deafening blast.

* * *

John jerked awake. Nurses and doctors were still moving around his bed and he realized he’d only been asleep for a few minutes at the most. He was in the operating room.

“Relax, son. We’ve just administered the anesthesia.” Carson’s face appeared in John’s line of sight. Someone on the other side of him that he couldn’t see placed a mask over his face.

“Wait,” John croaked. He reached up for the mask, pushing it away from his face. It had taken him a minute to remember the images—the memories—he’d seen in the few minutes he’d dozed off.

“You’re alright, John.” Carson was back, pulling John’s hand away from the mask so the anesthesiologist could put it back on his face. John could only see the doctor’s eyes behind all the surgical garb. He pulled his hand out of Carson’s grasped and pushed the mask away again.

“They’re not dead,” he said. “My team—they’re not dead. I remember.” He reached over to grab Carson and force the doctor to listen to him.

“What?” Carson asked, leaning toward John. The anesthesiologist put the mask back in place and held it with his hand.

“Please,” John begged. He could feel his eyes beginning to droop closed, but he fought it. “Tell Elizabeth they’re not dead. I remember. They’re still alive.”

“John, are you sure about this?” Carson asked.

John’s eyes slid shut but they snapped open at the sound of the doctor’s voice. He nodded his head.

“We got separated. I was supposed to come back with a jumper...and reinforcements…for the rescue. They’re not dead…I remember…they’re not dead.” Carson had grabbed a hold of one of John’s hands and John squeezed it as hard as he could. He looked at the doctor, pleading with him to believe what he was saying.

“Doctor Beckett, we must proceed. We can delay no further.” Amadine’s voice sounded from somewhere down near John’s feet.

“Tell…’lizab..’th,” he slurred. His grip on Carson’s hand relaxed as the anesthesia took hold and his eyes finally closed for good. He was vaguely aware of people moving around him. He fought to stay conscious as long as he could, and as he finally succumbed, he was sure he heard Beckett calling Weir on the radio.

* * *

“What happened?” Ronon whispered. He crawled forward to where Teyla was crouching. They’d been forced to shelter in Rodney’s Building of Death throughout the night as the bombs had continued to drop and two different patrols had passed by. They’d also stayed hoping Rodney would eventually make his way back to them.

“There was big explosion right where the stargate should be. I did not see any missiles hit, but what else could it be?”

“Did the stargate activate?”

“No. I cannot be certain, but I do not believe it did.” Teyla could not keep the despair out of her voice.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t lose hope,” Ronon said, gently grabbing her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him. Teyla was about to respond when they heard the sound of someone running toward them. They both ducked down, waiting for the military patrol to appear.

“Rodney!” Teyla gasped a few seconds later. Instead of a group of soldiers, she saw Rodney appear from behind one of the piles of rubble. He was holding his arm close to his chest, and Teyla could see that blood had soaked through his jacket and run down his entire sleeve. The scientist was running toward them. He stumbled right before he reached the door, and Ronon darted out to help the man the rest of the way to safety.

“You’re hurt,” Teyla said as she and Ronon helped Rodney lean back against the wall of their shelter once they got him inside.

“Don’t I know it,” Rodney muttered, trying to catch his breath.

“What happened, McKay?” Ronon asked.

Rodney took a deep breath, licking his dry lips. “After I got separated from you guys, I decided to try for the stargate,” he began. “Took awhile in the dark, plus all the bombs nearly dropping on my head. Got hit in the arm, too. Hurts,” he mumbled, looking down at his arm.

Teyla looked at his bleeding arm again and winced. Ronon started tearing a strip off his shirt to wrap around the gash that was covered in both dry and fresh blood. McKay must have opened it up running back toward them. He didn’t seem like he was in shock, but he wasn’t acting his normal, panicky self either. Ronon handed her the strip of cloth and she gently began wrapping Rodney’s arm. He winced and looked like he was ready to snap at her, but Ronon interrupted.

“Then what?” He rumbled.

“Got to the gate, but the DHD was almost completely destroyed. Looks like the area around the stargate has taken the brunt of the bombings. There was all kinds of crap—columns and statues and stuff—on top of it.”

Teyla’s face fell. Without the DHD, they would never be able to get off this planet.

“Can you not fix the DHD, Rodney?” She asked.

“Oh, no. Not this time. When I say it’s destroyed, I mean, it’s really gone. Half blown up. There’s no way I could fix. Well, maybe with the right tools and a few hours of bomb-free thinking time…no shrapnel flying at my face…”

“McKay.” Ronon grabbed the scientist’s shoulder and snapped his fingers in front of his face.

“Right, sorry. Feeling a little giddy.”

Teyla swallowed. “It is alright, Rodney. We will find a way to get back to Atlantis.” She said the words, but she didn’t quite believe it.

“Correction: I will find a way to get us back to Atlantis. And I have, kind of,” Rodney replied.

Teyla started, not expecting to hear that. She began to ask what he meant, when Rodney suddenly looked up at her and smiled.

“I found a grenade.”

“A grenade?” Ronon asked.

“Sheppard’s grenade, to be exact. Right near the stargate. He must have dropped it. The pin was still in it and everything. No other sign of Sheppard, by the way.”

“But if you found his grenade near the gate—”

“Then he did make it to the stargate.” Ronon finished, grinning.

“That was my conclusion as well.” Rodney said smugly.

Teyla suddenly remembered the explosion she had heard earlier near the stargate, and worry began to creep in.

“Rodney, there was an explosion near the stargate right before we saw you.”

“Yep. That was me. And Sheppard’s grenade. The way the columns were laying across the top of the stargate, a puddle jumper would never be able to get through. So, I blew them up. It was actually quite tricky: I had to calculate the weight distribution and throw the grenade at exactly the spot where most of the weight of two of the columns was resting in order to bring the rest of them—”

“Did it work?” Ronon interrupted.

“Oh, yeah. It worked. The stargate is now debris-free and ready for a puddle jumper to come through.”

“But if the DHD was destroyed…You said you had figured out a way to get us back to Atlantis,” Teyla said, feeling the first inklings of hope that their ordeal was soon at an end but not quite ready to give into it.

“Well, kind of. We’ll have to wait for Atlantis to activate the gate.” He held up his hand before either Ronon or Teyla could say anything. He dug into his pocket and pulled out Sheppard’s radio, as well as a collection of wires and bits of metal.

“Sheppard’s radio!” Ronon exclaimed.

“Sheppard’s broken radio,” Rodney amended, showing them the back of it. The plastic casing was broken showing a mess of wires inside.

“I may not be able to fix the DHD, but I can fix the radio using these.” He pointed to the pile of wires and metal pieces in his lap. “I salvaged them from what looks like a MALP. It’s been bombed to near oblivion, but I was able to grab enough replacement parts to fix the radio.”

“If Atlantis sent a MALP—” Ronon said, sitting back and smiling.

“Then they have probably been trying to reach us,” Teyla said. She leaned back against the wall in relief, the tension she’d been feeling for the last week starting to unwind.

“My thoughts exactly,” Rodney said. “Now, if you’ll stop asking me questions, I can fix this radio so that we’ll be able to answer them the next time Atlantis comes a’calling.”

Teyla looked up at Ronon and saw the hope and relief she was feeling mirrored in his own expression. They were going home and soon. They sat in silence as McKay worked, and Teyla’s thoughts again turned to her team leader. She’d tried not to dwell on what might have happened to John, knowing that she needed to concentrate all her thoughts and energy on keeping herself and her teammates alive, but part of her had wondered why Sheppard hadn’t returned within the first day or two. She agreed with Rodney—John had obviously made it to the gate if one of his grenades had been found there, but there was still a small part of her that wondered if he’d actually made it through the gate or if the DHD had been destroyed before he had a chance to dial out. She dared not wonder if he was wandering around the war-torn town on his own or, worse, if he’d been caught by one of the military patrols.

She and Ronon waited in silence as McKay worked on the radio. They’d grown used to being quiet around each other, including Rodney, and it now struck Teyla as odd. She had very rarely seen Rodney silent and still, and she wondered if he would go back to his loud, obnoxious, animated self once they got back to Atlantis.

Atlantis. The mere thought of it made her smile. They were so close now. She looked up as Ronon moved toward the doorway and peered out into the street. Ronon had seemed his usual self for most of the week, but Teyla had seen a glimpse of the military leader he was. He wasn’t just a soldier; he had taken charge of the team and kept them alive. As tired as she’d been throughout the week, at times with pounding, eye-watering headaches, she had trusted Ronon’s leadership implicitly. And, she’d noticed that Rodney had also. John would be proud of both of them.

Ronon suddenly turned toward them, signaling them to be quiet even though neither her nor Rodney had been making any noise. Within a few minutes, they heard the quiet steps of a military patrol picking its way through the debris and coming toward them. They were obviously coming from the direction of the stargate, probably to investigate the explosion that Rodney had set up off early. All three of them froze as the patrol passed by the building. Because of the blast crater in front their hiding place, the patrol had to pass single file right past the broken out window. All it would take would be one soldier to peer inside the dark, seemingly abandoned building and he would probably spot the three Atlanteans huddled in the darkest corner they could squeeze into.

Teyla held her breath as each soldier walked past. She could hear them breathing, smell their foul, unwashed stench. She was sure her, Rodney, and Ronon didn’t smell much better, and for a second, she wondered if their own smell would give them away. Finally, the last of the soldiers passed them. They waited until they could no longer hear their footsteps echoing on the street before the three breathed a sigh of relief.

Ronon was the first to move. He crawled over to the doorway and peeked out. Teyla waited while he checked to make sure the street was empty, unconsciously gripping Rodney’s injured arm.

“Ow,” he whispered.

She looked back at him and saw his face screwed up in pain. She relaxed her hand, a little embarrassed at what she’d done.

“I am sorry, Rodney.”

McKay just brushed it off, another indication of how much he had changed over the last week. Ronon crawled back to them.

“The radio fixed?” He asked.

“It is….now,” Rodney answered, attaching the last wire. He flipped the radio on and smiled when the power clicked in. There was nothing but static coming through the small speaker, but at least it worked.

“We should get out of here, move closer to the gate.”

Teyla nodded. Rodney turned the radio off and stuck it in his pocket. He clambered to his feet with Teyla’s help, and they followed Ronon out the door. Rodney poked Ronon in the back as they started walking, and the tall man turned toward the scientist.

“Faster that way,” McKay whispered, and pointed in the direction he had come from earlier. Ronon nodded and limped in that direction. The street was empty now, but Teyla knew another patrol could come by at any time, most likely an opposing patrol looking for the patrol that had just passed them.

They were about fifty feet from the gate when Rodney suddenly started jumping up and down. He pointed at the gate then slugged Teyla in the shoulder. Teyla looked up to see what had gotten Rodney so excited and felt her spirits lift when she saw the chevrons activating. _Please be Atlantis. Please be John._

Rodney was digging in his pocket for the radio. The three kneeled down near a pile of debris that hid them somewhat from view of anyone walking through the town square. The stargate kawooshed, and Teyla didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful as the shimmering blue puddle of the event horizon.

* * *

Elizabeth Weir waited near the railing of the command center. She stared at the blue puddle of the event horizon in apprehension, not daring to hope. Beckett had called her from the operating team, saying John had begged him to contact her. Carson had been unable to hide the hope in his voice as he’d relayed what John had told him.

She’d listened to Beckett explain that John had woken up in a panic just as they’d started giving him the anesthesia, absolutely convinced that his team was still alive. John had remembered more of what had happened on the mission and begged them to open a wormhole to the planet one more time. Beckett had signed off quickly as the surgery began, leaving the decision on whether or not to try reaching John’s team up to her alone.

She’d decided to give it one last try, for John more than anything else. Now she stood in front of the gate hoping John was right. She looked back at the gate technician—Jennings again—and nodded. He signaled back to her that the radio was active.

“Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, this is Weir. Do you read?” She waited for a response. Major Lorne walked up beside her, listening intently.

“This is Atlantis. Does anyone read?”

  
 _“….this…McKay…hear you…out…..”_

 __

 __

“Rodney?” Elizabeth cried, her heart pounding. Besides her, she saw Lorne punch his fist in the air.

  
 _“Yes…Teyla…Ronon too…okay…get us…hell-hole…”_

 __

 __

The radio was staticky and garbled, but McKay’s voice was unmistakable. The control room erupted in cheers as they realized the team was alive.

“Rodney, we hear you.”

  
 _“…cleared debris on gate…grenade…clear for…jumper…bombing…again. We’ll wait…rescue…DHD broken…missiles…ap…”_

 __

 __

“Rodney, did I hear that right? The debris over the gate has been cleared out?”

  
 _“Yes…what I said…cleared out…come get us…now…”_

 __

 __

Elizabeth turned to Lorne, but before she could say anything, he gave her a thumbs up and ran out of the control room toward the jumper bay, talking to his team to gather for a rescue. Elizabeth smiled.

“We’re coming, Rodney. Major Lorne will be there in a jumper in a few minutes. Just hold on.”

  
 _“Thank…holding on…hungry…”_

 __

 __

Elizabeth started laughing, and watched Lorne’s jumper drop from the ceiling and shoot through the stargate. Her legs almost felt shaky as she realized her friends were finally coming home. Only one member of that team left to rescue.

“Mr. Jennings, when Major Lorne returns, tell him I will meet everyone in the infirmary.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the technician answered.

* * *

EPILOGUE

John Sheppard was oblivious to the chaos around him.

He did not see Teyla, Ronon, and Rodney run into the infirmary dirty, sweaty, hungry, and smelling rank. He did not see their worried expressions as Elizabeth explained what had happened to their team leader over the last week—how he’d been flung through the gate, how he’d suffered through his injuries, how he’d believed his team had been killed, and how he’d been prepared to give everything up and return to Earth. He did not see the horror on Elizabeth’s face as the team relayed their own experiences, ending with Lorne’s harrowing rescue as he flew the puddle jumper through flying rockets to retrieve them.

He did not see his team and Elizabeth camped out in the infirmary as they waited for the surgery to end. He did not see his team passed out on the infirmary beds from their own ordeal as nurses tended to their wounds.

He did not see Beckett’s and Amadine’s own battle to save John and repair the damage that had been done, nor did he see Carson’s exhausted face light up with first shock, then joy as he exited the operating room and saw Ronon, Teyla, and Rodney—tired but eager—waiting for his report.

He did not really see the faces of his team members watching over him the first few times he woke up, and he didn’t see the consternation in their faces as he drifted back to sleep a few seconds later.

After what seemed like an eternity to his friends, John Sheppard finally woke up.

“I think he’s awake. It looks like he’s trying to open his eyes.”

“Rodney, Doctor Beckett said it would take time for him to recover from his surgery. We must be patient.”

“No, I really think he’s waking up this time.”

John heard the voices floating above him and he wondered if he was awake or if he was still dreaming. He thought he recognized Teyla’s and Rodney’s voices, but that couldn’t be right. They were dead.

He inhaled sharply at the pain that thought gave him and opened his eyes. Directly above him, Rodney McKay’s blue eyes stared down at him. He stared at McKay for a few seconds and watched the scientist’s face split into a wide grin.

“Am I dead?” John mumbled. Rodney’s smile fell and he looked up in panic at someone standing on John’s other side.

“No, lad,” Carson said. “You’re not dead.”

John felt the doctor’s warm hand on his arm, and he slowly turned his head toward his voice. Carson looked down at him, beaming.

“You made it through the surgery just fine, John. It will take a little work, but you should make a full recovery. And I’m sure your team will help you out.”

“Of course.”

John heard Teyla’s voice before he saw her, and he turned back as she squeezed in next to Rodney.

“It is good to see you awake and recovering, John,” she smiled.

John smiled back. He almost couldn’t believe it. Elizabeth stood off to the side watching the reunion with joy. John met her eyes, his face filled with gratitude. He looked around again, one face still missing.

“Hey, Sheppard,” Ronon rumbled, hopping over to the side of the bed and gripping John’s leg.

“Ronon, how many times have I told you to use the crutches I gave you. You’re going to reopen that wound if you keep it up,” Carson grouched, moving toward the Satedan. The others snickered as Ronon quickly brought the crutch under his arm and took some of his weight off his injured leg.

John belatedly realized that Ronon wasn’t the only one injured. They all looked a little battered and a little more worse for wear. Teyla had a clean, white bandage over her forehead, and Rodney’s arm was in a sling.

“You guys okay?” He asked.

“We are fine. We are home safe in Atlantis,” Teyla answered.

“Ah, Atlantis. No bombs, no falling buildings, no crazed military patrols,…” Rodney began.

“Plenty of food,” Ronon added.

“Showers,” Carson and Elizabeth said at the same time, causing everyone to burst out laughing.

John stared at the group around him and felt the relief wash through him. He was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of emotion as he realized how close he’d come to losing them. He blinked his eyes rapidly trying to gain control of his emotions, and felt Carson and Teyla grip his arms and shoulders in support.

“I left you guys behind,” John choked out, still desperately trying to pull himself together.

“No, you went to get help but failed,” Rodney responded. “So, once again, it was left to me to rescue everyone. Never trust a grunt to do what a genius can accomplish ten times better and—might I add—faster.”

John stared at McKay’s smug smile, speechless. The rest of the group also stared at Rodney in shock. Rodney looked around, confused at the lack of reaction he was getting, then growing suspicious.

“What?” He demanded. “You don’t believe I can save everyone? After all the times I’ve pulled your collective butts out of the fire, you’re still questioning my abilities? I’ll have you know that…”

Rodney trailed off as John suddenly burst out laughing. His team was here, alive. Ronon joined in, followed by the others. McKay looked ready to argue but John reached up for him.

“Thanks, McKay. We owe you one,” he said.

“Damn straight,” Rodney muttered, but he smiled as he said it.

John rubbed his eyes, feeling like he could sleep for weeks on end but not ready to give up this moment with his team. Elizabeth stepped forward quietly and cleared her throat. The others grew quiet, watching the exchange between her and John.

“John, the Daedalus will be ready to head back to Earth in a few days. Did you still want to go with them?”

John looked at her for a moment, remembering what she’d done for him over the last week and how she’d gotten him through it. Carson was watching him carefully as well, waiting for his response. His team looked a little confused at first, but they waited for him to answer. John took a deep breath.

“Oh, hell no. Get that ship out of my galaxy.”

Everyone laughed again, and Sheppard could hear the bubbling voices of Teyla and Elizabeth, Ronon rumbling at McKay as the scientist began chattering and the thick Scottish brogue as Carson pushed all of them out the door so his patient could get some rest. John relaxed back into his pillows, letting the voices of his team and his friends lull him into a peaceful sleep.

END 


End file.
